


The Value of Honor

by GinaMarie



Series: Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen [1]
Category: Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen - H. Beam Piper
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 256,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinaMarie/pseuds/GinaMarie
Summary: Shanghaied across the time dimensions, middle school student Judy Bondi, her classmates and an extraordinary man deal with a history they never learned in school. Instead of reading history, they're making it!This story is a continuation of the story of Calvin Morrison, starting about 8 years after the John F Carr book "Gunpowder God."  This is fanfic so there are some differences from Carr's vision.  It was originally posted on my website (and is still there, both the original version without Carr's additions and an updated version. There are also two sequels.  The original was posted as "Tangent."  You can find it by googling "Gina Marie" + Tangent.





	1. Prologue

I

Prythos, an archpriest of Holy Styphon, stood in the entranceway of the Great Temple of Styphon in the Holy City of Balph, trying to ignore the growing panic around him. Demon Kalvan’s army was two palm widths or less from the Holy City and the priests of Styphon had good reason to panic. In the distance cannon thundered and roared.

He moved forward, bulling his way past panic-stricken minions of the Great God Styphon. He sniffed in derision. You guys bet on the wrong horse!

Dracar was in the inner sanctum, and was as seemingly unconcerned as always. “Ah, Prythos, I have a mission for you!”

Prythos swallowed his retort that he had a mission for Dracar as well. Right into the maw of Demon Kalvan’s army!

“You will return to Zarthan, via Confluence.” That was the town where the largest tributary of the Great Father of Rivers flowed into it. “There is a secret train of wagons holding there, guarded by a thousand of Styphon’s most loyal soldiers. Only a recognized archpriest of Styphon can get them moving.”

He looked at Prythos sharply. “They are escorting two hundred and fifty wagons to Zarthan, laden with gold, jewels, weapons and other valuables. Lomax, one of Cimon’s acolytes, will be in charge.”

If Prythos was any judge of hidden messages, Lomax was junior to him.

“As you wish, Archpriest,” Prythos answered.

Dracar laughed. “Archpriests come and go, and Styphon’s Voice has departed for parts unknown, as well. I appear to be the Supreme Pontiff of Styphon, Styphon’s Voice. I imagine Demon Kalvan will have a different view on things when he gets here. But while I command, you will take a seed of the Great God west to Zarthan and plant there, hopefully, in fertile soil.

“Away now, before the city is closed in entirely.”

“And you, Holiness?” Prythos asked.

“I will make my own way west. Dracar is going to vanish for a while before springing back to life.”

There was a loud bang and the sound of crashing masonry outside. “Go quicker than quick, Prythos. The temple is nearly in cannon range.”

Prythos rode a ship out of the harbor, watching as columns of smoke arose over the city he was leaving. He mentally shook his head, cursing the fools that had led them. They had burned Hostigos Town and murdered its people. What did those fools expect when the shoe was on the other foot? Balph and its people were doomed. The man who had been proclaimed a Great King had made every effort to avoid this. But no–the foolish leaders of Styphon were men such as Roxthar and Anaxthenes–they had left a blood-soaked wasteland that was fertile ground for discontent. Ha! Discontent? Thousands of men had sworn oaths of blood vengeance against Styphon!

He contemplated Dracar for a moment. This wasn’t the time to reveal himself fully to the archpriest, of that he was certain. He had sources back on Home Time Line and he was aware that there was no awareness that he existed, and that he was working with the Organization. He smiled inwardly. Dracar was going to go by conveyor, he was certain, and Dracar was right, he had to disappear for a while to give cover to the rapid relocation. Prythos was a trusted archpriest, but not a senior one. Or so Dracar thought.

He would send a message ball to the Organization, with codewords that they would heed. This was not the time to let up on safety. Conveyors should travel to places that were inhospitable before transposition. The southern ice cap was good spot. Yes, it was a nuisance to have to travel half the world before they left and after they arrived on other timelines, but there was too much chance of interpenetration otherwise. And as Kalvan had proved, even if travelers were prepared, there could be leaks between the timelines.

Let even one escape, and then the Paracops would know that their nemesis hadn’t been destroyed as they had thought. He gripped the rail of the row galley tightly, until his knuckles whitened thinking about his aunt and what he could do to bring about her comeuppance, and while he was at it–he owed her husband as well. He would cheerfully wrap his hands around her throat squeezing the life out of her.

He shook himself. That was for later; now he had to keep his eye on the ball so as not to drop it. There was a huge distance he had to cover. He’d gone west once before but that time he had started further west. If he wanted to avenge his father he didn’t dare make any mistakes–like revealing his true identity too early.

The ship was a fast row galley. That meant it traveled fast, but paid for that speed by having to stop often for supplies. It was bound for the great city Xiphlon at the end of it’s voyage. He had originally intended to disembark at the first stop, and make his way from there to the west.

He weighed the distances and speeds. Travel by ship on three sides of a rectangle, or walk the fourth side. Travel by ship was far safer than foot travel. He grimaced. With the fall of Styphon’s Great Temple there were going to be a great many more footpads, cutpurses and out-and-out psychotic killers lying wait for hapless travelers. He didn’t dare trade on his association with Styphon to try to avoid unpleasantness.

Styphon had never been held in high regard by most in the best of times, and with the destruction of its power, there would be many looking to curry favor with Demon Kalvan. No, he’d ride the galley, then take a river boat up-river to Confluence. The trick was to arrive at his destination, not see how fast he could get there!

 

II

 

Prythos swallowed another sun-warmed grape, squishing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He allowed himself to think how much better the grape would have been if it had been fermented into wine, and then left out in a particularly cold winter. Lomax was across the room, reviewing the Great Plan, the one that spelled out in detail the effort to grant Styphon’s comeback, utilizing the combined weight of the Mexicotál God-King and the kingdom of Zarthan.

The Home Time Line people had relied on subterfuge to run the worship of Styphon until the advent of Demon Kalvan. Damn the man! He had ruined so many plans already–plans he had no knowledge of and probably wouldn’t understand if the barbarian soldier knew their gist. This was to be their attempt to regain the glory of the Great God Styphon...the one true god!

Prythos laughed to himself. At least, that was supposed to be what the rubes believed! They had had to spend a lot of the funds he had brought west after Balph and the Grand Temple had fallen! But the plan seemed to be solid. What could go wrong? They marched on the Demon Kalvan with two armies, both many times the size of all the Demon’s armies that faced them.

The armies were already on the move, not far from their lines of departure, and there was no sign that the Hostigi had noticed. Still, he knew enough of military matters that you didn’t want to count your victories until _after_ they had been won.

Dracar came into the room and looked around. He had, Prythos thought, something on his mind. He gestured at Prythos to join him as he stood in front of Lomax’s desk.

As Prythos reached him, Dracar jerked a nod in recognition, and then turned to Lomax. “I understand you authorized an emergency transition to bring a Zarthani scout patrol. It wasn’t in the Great Plan, nor in our plan as well.”

“I admit we were rushed, but I wanted to have observers on the ground and in position when the war kicks off tomorrow.”

Prythos was surprised when Dracar scowled. “Lomax, you are a simple fool! If you had discussed this with anyone, we’d have cancelled it as too risky on the eve of the war. The natives are sensitive to portents in the sky. Plus, of course, there are other, far worse risks.”

“Such as?” the man who thought of himself as an archpriest first and a man from Home Time Line somewhere near the bottom of the list.

“The conveyor interpenetrated with another and some travelers were coopted. There has been a leak because they escaped. The really bad news is they escaped here, and they were from Hispano-Columbian.”

Lomax froze, the color draining from his face. “Find him, kill him! Then gather up those in the conveyor and shoot the lot of them as well! How could a dozen and a half armed men let a lone primitive escape?”

“Because the lone primitive wasn’t alone and he was in a vehicle as I said. Your men report their best guess is that seven escaped.”

“Alert our people in the area to be on the lookout for newcomers. They are to be killed on sight, with due deference to the Outtime Procedures manual. These are primitives with only barest understanding about what transpired! We can nip this is the bud before it leaks to Home Time Line.”

Prythos smiled to himself. Sure, of course. Like Demon Kalvan had been tossed for a loop and nipped in the bud! At least this time they knew about it in advance of Home Time Line! Prythos made a mental note: the moment that Lomax was no longer necessary to the Great Plan, he would be terminated. This sort of error endangered the whole operation across more timelines than were imaginable.

Prythos considered Dracar. Would he make arrangements? He thought so, but just in case, he’d make plans himself.

Dracar certainly sounded emphatic. “Lomax, you are the junior member of the Organization’s management team tasked to Styphon-west. There are a hundred members of the Organization who could replace you in an instant. Fail in this and you will be replaced. I believe you understand what replacement would mean to you, personally.”

Lomax drew himself up, obviously offended. “I don’t fail, Dracar! The outtimers will be shocked by the changes in their world, and we will eliminate them while they are still in shock.”

“And I will remind you, Lomax, that you have risked everything. The Paracops don’t know we exist. They don’t even suspect! But a confirmed leak between the timelines will tell them enough to sharpen their watching. Not only have you threatened the Great Plan on this timeline, but the overall plan of attack by the Organization. Let the Paracops get wind of us, and we all stand to be reduced to drooling fools only too happy to clean Fifth Level toilets. And that’s if the leadership of the Organization doesn’t find out you’ve cost them a few trillion credits! If the Paracops find one of us, it’s curtains. They have ways of killing a person so that they can’t recarnate. We would die the final death!

“And Kalvan got over his shock fast enough to fight a battle the very same evening.” Lomax had a sour look on his face, but didn’t come back with anything.

“Speaking of nothing apropos,” Prythos said, “Guldar Hak is coming tomorrow to review the first outcomes of the Great Plan. His thesis is that if things go wrong at first, they will just get worse.”

“The head of the Organization is coming here?” Lomax bleated his fear.

“One of the three men who lead us,” Dracar corrected. “The triumvirs are still jockeying for position since the untimely discarnation of Hadron Tharn.”

“Pity he is gone,” Prythos told the others, in a mild, seemingly disinterested tone. “He was the founder of the Organization and the one who made it run like clockwork. His sister saw to it that he died the final death. He is missed.” Prythos watched the others carefully to see if they had noticed the switch from past to present tense. He mentally sniffed when no one seemed to notice.

“We will just have to see that nothing goes wrong,” Dracar spoke with authority “And nip the timeline contamination issue in the bud.”


	2. Getting There is Half the Fun

I

Judy Bondi dropped the checklist she’d been working from onto her bed and patted her backpack fondly. With practiced motions she cinched her sleeping bag to the bottom rail of the pack and then grinned broadly.

It had been more than a year and a half since Judy had last gone camping with her brother. She remembered everything he had taught her as if she had learned it only yesterday. Carl would be proud of his little sister! Little sister–Ha! She was nearly as tall as his six feet.

She swung the pack off her bed and leaned it against the wall by the door to the hall, then went to her desk to pick up the knife her brother had given her when he’d been home on leave over Thanksgiving a year before. Judy pulled it from its sheath and stared at the long blade.

Her brother had told Judy it was a hunting knife, something she would find useful when she was camping. The knife had an eight-inch blade with a wicked look about it. Judy was sure it was really some sort of combat knife. About what you’d expect from someone who was now a Marine staff sergeant after just five years of service in the Marines.

Judy sighed. The problem was that her brother had been posted to Moscow, of all places, to guard the embassy there. He had been stuck there for two years, with six months still to run on this assignment.

Outside her room Judy saw the light snap off in the hall as her dad headed towards his bedroom. Judy’s mind wandered along corridors of the past, the present and the future.

Once upon a time, hers had been a happy family. Her dad had been a gruff Italian bear, all noise and no bite. Mom had loved her children whole-heartedly, making them the centerpiece of her life. Not that the galloping liver cancer that had killed her in six brief months had cared at all what sort of mother she’d been to her children.

Ever since, day-by-day, Judy’s father had changed. Gene Bondi was still bear-like and grumpy, but it wasn’t pretend or for fun any more. He was like a bear with a sore foot; a bear that you wanted to be very careful you didn’t rile.

Her father had driven her brother Carl out–that was the bottom line. Carl had planned on going to Arizona State after high school and studying chemistry. Except Carl looked their father in the eye and decided that living at home wasn’t an option, so Carl had gone straight from high school to the Marines. There he had unexpectedly found a new home, and he hated to come back to visit.

Sure, once upon a time Carl had had big plans for when he finished his first tour. Carl planned on going to college on the GI Bill, where he could afford his own apartment. Where he could have his own life, away from the negative influence of their father. Now, when he came to visit, he no longer stayed at home, just dropping in to visit Judy.

Judy slipped the knife into her pack before turning off her own light.

Tomorrow, Mr. MacGregor, her eighth grade teacher, was going to take some of his class into the desert, staying over Friday and Saturday nights.

They had done something like this back in November. Judy remembered that it had been fun, a lot of fun. It had snowed the day before they had gone up to the high country. There had been two or three inches of the foreign white stuff on the ground where they parked at the trailhead. Three of Judy’s classmates had never seen snow before except in pictures. The group had hiked six miles into a wilderness area and two thousand feet higher into the mountains and camped in snow that was six to nine inches deep. Judy had reveled in the moans and groans of complaint from the others!

Now it was the first week of April. They weren’t very likely to see snow this time! In fact, it was likely to be in the mid-90’s all weekend long, and it was possible the temperature could reach into triple digits. Judy crooked a small smile, thinking about it. Likely there would be even more complaints this time, but none of them would be from her. Carl had done a good job teaching her to camp; Judy’s parents had too, before her mom got sick.

Judy closed her eyes, willing herself to get some sleep. Instead, Mr. MacGregor popped into her mind. At five eleven, Judy was taller than just about everyone in her class, but standing next to Mr. MacGregor brought her back into perspective. Her teacher stood six four, weighed two hundred pounds and was tough as nails. He was all muscle.

Mr. MacGregor had been an Army master sergeant, and even though he wasn’t much more than forty, he was already retired from the Army. He’d been in Vietnam too, just like her brother. He had been a Green Beret medic; he liked to tell funny stories around the campfire about life in the army. Mr. MacGregor also taught Outward Bound in the summer. He was someone who’d done a lot of exciting things in his life.

Judy had watched Mr. MacGregor last fall, coming down the mountain with his cousin, after everyone else who’d been hiking with them had called it quits. The two adults had climbed all the way to the top of the ridge and were running back, taking huge leaps and bounds through the snow. It had taken them four hours to climb up to the top of the ridge–but less than twenty minutes to come back down. He’d had fun; she had seen it in his face, afterwards. Fun! Imagine, an eighth grade teacher who could have fun!

For this trip, he’d told them, he had a special treat for the class. His old commander from Vietnam, a man who’d twice saved his life, was going to come along. A man who, Mr. MacGregor said, should have gotten a lot more than a lousy Silver Star for the last time he’d saved him, because he’d saved a whole lot of others at the same time. Most importantly, Mr. MacGregor’s friend had grown up in Arizona and knew everything there was to know about desert survival, and it would be very educational for them to hear him talk about it.

Judy tried to picture what sort of a man it would take to make Mr. MacGregor’s eyes light up with pleasure and gratitude as they had when he talked about his friend. She was still thinking about Mr. MacGregor when her thoughts faded to dreams.

II

At lunch the next day, Judy sat in her usual spot in the cafeteria, off to one side. She took out her bag lunch and a book to read from her book bag.

Her friend, Becky Tomasino, joined her almost at once. Becky had the same long black hair as Judy, the same brown eyes and the same brown skin. Becky was four inches shorter than Judy, and was maybe thirty pounds lighter.

“This is going to be so much fun this weekend!” Becky said, her eyes bright.

Judy smiled and nodded.

A third girl joined them, Lydia Valenzuela. Lydia had the same black hair and brown eyes of her friends, but she was shorter than Becky and built a little heavier than Judy. Lydia didn’t smile much and didn’t then.

“What are you reading, Judy?” Lydia asked. Lydia might not smile much, but she was as curious as any cat.

Judy held up Andre Norton’s _Sea Siege_. Lydia held out her hand and Judy handed it over to her.

“Wow,” Lydia exclaimed after a second. “World War III and denizens of the deep! All in one!”

Judy nodded in agreement. “And last week,” Lydia went on, “it was _Farnham’s Freehold_. World War III again.”

Judy smiled at that. “You should read it. Robert Heinlein is a very good writer.”

Lydia shook her head. “Last night, we went to visit my grandfather in the hospital. He told me that he wanted me to have his guitar and he made my grandmother bring it. He gave it to me, and then made me play a couple of pieces for him, right there in his hospital room. Rodrigo.” Lydia cast her eyes heavenward. “Those are really, really hard!”

Judy could only nod. She loved to read books; Lydia loved music. Lydia’s grandfather was dying of cancer, just like Judy’s mother had...only much more slowly. Judy hadn’t been very interested in reading when her mother had been sick. Nor had she found anything to smile about at the time. It’s hard to see someone you love waste away to nothing and die.

“Hah! I read the history assignment!” Becky laughed. “You two...” Becky was shaking her head in mock anger. Becky was practical and pragmatic.

“I did that two days ago,” Lydia replied, mildly aggrieved.

Judy didn’t say anything. She’d read the entire American history book once in the fall, read this particular assignment a couple of weeks before and again the previous weekend. This wasn’t so much an old discussion, as an old joke between them.

It’s hard to understand what draws people together, Judy thought. Becky was Italian, like Judy as well, although in her case, both of Becky’s parents were actually Italian. Only Judy’s father’s parents had come from Italy, but her mother had been from Hoboken, New Jersey.

Lydia’s parents, both of them, had been born in Mexico and had come to the United States when they were young.

The three girls had been friends since they could remember in school. All three had long black hair and brown eyes; all three wore their hair braided down their backs. They had been friendly rivals for years to see who could grow it the longest. To see who could read the most books and who could get the best grades in school.

Judy was certain that she couldn’t have better friends in the world. She knew it because at one time or another, both Becky and Lydia had helped Judy with her hair after Judy’s mother died. Long hair, particularly braided, takes a lot of time and effort to keep clean and brushed; it wouldn’t have been possible without help from her friends.

“Are you looking forward to this weekend, Judy?” Lydia asked.

“A lot,” Judy admitted to her friends, and then grinned. “I packed a lot of books.”

“Not a single school book, I bet!” Becky said gleefully.

“Not a single one,” Judy agreed.

“Not me!” Becky exclaimed, “I’m taking my history book!”

“I’m bringing my American literature book,” Lydia said.

The other two fell to eating their own brown bag lunches. Judy marked the place in her book and joined the conversation. There would be, Judy thought, plenty of time to read over the weekend. Lunch ended and the three of them headed back to Mr. MacGregor’s classroom to finish out the day.

The last bell rang and almost everyone was up and out of their seats; the usual Friday afternoon rush to start on the weekend. Judy sat still, waiting for the rush to get past. She saw Mr. MacGregor give her a small smile and a nod.

Judy knew that more than one girl in her class would get all dreamy-eyed if Mr. MacGregor were to nod at them. Judy, on the other hand, was tolerably sure that Mr. MacGregor was aware of how much respect she held him in.

“It wouldn’t hurt to go now anyway,” Mr. MacGregor said and laughed, reading her mind. “Tuck is very punctual, and he expects it of everyone else, too.”

Judy nodded, got up and walked to the back of the room and simply lifted her pack easily, swung it over her shoulder and onto her back. A few feet away, Judy saw Lydia shoulder a much smaller back pack, one without a frame, then pick up a guitar case.

Becky’s pack was nearly as large as Judy’s. “I am ready,” Becky said firmly.

“You have your box?” Judy asked.

“Of course. I never let it get far away.”

Becky’s box was famous and had been since third grade. Need something? See Becky. Scissors, glue, paper, pencils, string, pins, needles, thread, pliers, bobby pins, clothes pins. Whatever you needed, Becky would have it. She called it her “anything” box.

Mr. MacGregor, when he needed something, would turn to Becky and say, “Does Miss Practical have...?” and name what he needed. Becky was still afraid someone was going to start using that as her nickname, but Judy didn’t think it would be a problem. It was too long, if nothing else.

Sarah Flowers, the other girl from the class that was going, was a few feet away, trying to pick up everything she’d brought along at once–and failing.

Seeing Judy standing with her hands free, Sarah promptly handed Judy her sleeping bag. “Would you carry this out for me, Judy? Thanks.” Sarah had instantly turned away dealing with another minor crisis, without waiting for an answer.

Sarah was about five six, blonde and fair as the other girls were dark. She was wearing Bermuda shorts and a thin, dark-colored blouse.

Judy smiled to herself. You will, Sarah, hear from Mr. MacGregor before the evening is out. You will learn a lot about how to pack a backpack, and then you will hear about what to wear when you go out into the desert in the desert sun.

Judy’s eyes strayed to Sarah’s mother, a few feet away from her daughter, her gear in equal disarray. It will be worth the price of admission to see what Mr. MacGregor says to you, lady. Sarah’s mother was, at least, wearing jeans, but she was going to find walking in the desert exciting, wearing open-toed sandals, leather or not.

Becky also glanced at Mrs. Flowers and gave Judy a wry grin. Judy shrugged, but with a small smile. Both of her friends saw her expression and grinned too.

The three of them were always talking about things between themselves. Things like what sort of clothes to wear in the desert, what they should bring along for the weekend. If they weren’t sure, none of them was shy about asking each other questions. In Judy’s opinion, some things were a lot nicer learned in a classroom or sitting, talking on the phone.

Judy turned and led the way out the door, walking towards the parking lot about two hundred yards away, with Becky and Lydia trailing her. Much further behind were Sarah and her mother. Mr. MacGregor was still back in the classroom, trying to help one of the boys reduce what he was going to bring along, although he was finishing up.

There was no doubt in her mind which vehicle she was looking for. It was a van with a sign on the driver’s door that said “VALLEY STUD.” There was a man with one boot heel on the front bumper, leaning back against the hood, a Stetson pulled down over his eyes. He was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved blue-checked shirt. When Judy got closer she saw it was just a plain shirt, not a western shirt–there were no snaps, no fancy decorations around the pockets.

Judy stopped a few feet away from him, wondering what she should do. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. MacGregor coming, trailed by a line of others. Becky and Lydia weren’t far off; there was another girl Judy didn’t recognize, with Sarah and her mother, still further back. Mr. MacGregor was walking quickly towards Judy.

“Tuck,” Mr. MacGregor said when he got closer, “isn’t like me. You get in Dutch with me if you don’t do your homework. Tuck doesn’t like people who are late.” Mr. MacGregor waved at Tuck. “You’ll notice Tuck can sleep standing up, on a hot Arizona afternoon, wearing long sleeves.”

“At least,” the man said, pushing up his hat, “I don’t suffer from gas.”

Judy considered Mr. Tucker for a few seconds. He was easily the most unremarkable person she had ever seen. He was about five eight, maybe 140 pounds, with clear blue eyes. He didn’t have a beak nose like she and Becky did, his nose wasn’t even as large as Lydia’s. His lips were thin; his brown hair was crew cut. He looked like some middle manager at the Western Electric plant where her dad worked.

“Which of you gets to ride in luxury and comfort?” Mr. Tucker asked. He looked at them, and then at Mr. MacGregor. “Let me guess how the numbers work, Mac. Five guys and you. Six women and me.”

“The air conditioning is busted in the Travel-All,” Mr. MacGregor averred.

“So ladies, if you would, let’s load up,” Mr. Tucker said.

He walked around the back of his van, opened the double doors at the rear and stepped back out of the way. Judy was right behind him, putting her pack down next to another pack frame, already there. There was a long canvas bag that Judy thought was a large tent, plus some plastic milk crates with things in them as well.

When Sarah loaded her pack, Judy handed her the sleeping bag. Sarah just dumped it next to her own pack and then walked around the side of the big van.

It took a while, but finally they were on the road, following Mr. MacGregor’s very large car. Judy was curious about a number of things, things that she’d seen, things she’d inferred.

Mrs. Flowers had simply claimed the front passenger seat. Judy wasn’t surprised, but was curious about the fact that Mrs. Flowers and Mr. Tucker barely exchanged any words.

Lydia had gotten into the middle seat, between the window and Sarah Flowers. Judy was sitting in the middle of the back seat, the stranger to her left, Becky to her right. It was fair, Judy thought, for her to get the middle. Normally she got a window seat, because as tall as she was, her knees would collide with the ceiling of any regular car she was in, if she sat in the middle. But there was no hump down the middle of the van, so it made no difference where she sat.

Judy cast a mild glare towards Mrs. Flowers. Lydia should be sitting where you are. Lydia gets carsick; she can’t sit in the back seat of a car at all. The middle was going to be a trial for her, but she could probably get by. She does just fine sitting up front. Too bad you never bothered to ask.

And, speaking of talking, the stranger sitting next to Judy wasn’t doing any of it either. The girl was a very large question mark in Judy’s mind. She was nearly as tall as Judy and was probably twenty pounds heavier than Judy. Not fat, but much further into the chunky class of girl. 

The real surprise was that Judy had absolutely no idea who the other girl was. Not a clue. The girl said absolutely nothing, and did nothing but stare straight ahead, not even bothering to look out the window. There was even less expression on the stranger’s face than in Lydia’s.

Plus, the girl’s hip had brushed against Judy’s. Judy pretended that nothing had happened, but unless Judy was very mistaken, the girl had a very large knife in her jeans pocket.

Then there was Mr. MacGregor’s friend, who was driving. She’d been curious about him since the first time Mr. MacGregor spoke of him. Now, having seen him, she was more curious than ever. There was an economy about the way he moved, the way he talked, that she couldn’t put a finger on, but it wasn’t just an impression. No, that was what he was like. Economical.

Judy could not imagine describing a person with the word “economical” and if she had, She’d have probably used the word thrifty, instead. But economical suited Tuck.

In the fall, the entire group had been able to fit in Mr. MacGregor’s car, and they had talked and laughed for the entire drive to where they were to start hiking. On the way back they’d sung stupid camp songs; it had been a lot of fun.

Mr. Tucker tried to start a conversation earlier, when he’d asked everyone their names, but the conversation had lapsed almost at once. At least Judy had gleaned the name of the stranger, Elspeth Brenner. She didn’t recall hearing it before at school; it would be interesting later to see if Becky or Lydia knew her.

After everyone had given their names, Mr. Tucker had said, “William Tucker is the name my parents gave me, but that didn’t stop them from calling me Billy when I was growing up. In Nam, Mac started calling me Tuck–he didn’t think Billy sounded enough like what an officer’s name should be. The name caught on. So, please, call me Tuck–everyone does.”

Twice after that, Judy had seen Mr. Tucker, Tuck, say something quietly to Mrs. Flowers. Once, Mrs. Flowers had turned away, rudely looking out the window. The second time she had simply ignored him.

Yet Mrs. Flowers had given him her name and so had Sarah. So, maybe it was just instant bad chemistry.

It took an hour to get away from the city and then they went along a dusty dirt road for another hour.

Tuck finally broke the silence, waving ahead of them at Mr. MacGregor’s car. “Mac said that some of you went with him into the mountains last fall, and this spring he wanted to bring you into the desert. This is the prettiest time of the year in the desert.”

Some people saw rocks and sand, mountains and hills and thought the desert was desolate. Actually, Judy thought, the desert was dotted every few feet with bushes, mainly creosote and sage, mesquite and palo verde trees were also frequent. Less common were ironwood trees and a few other tree varieties as well. There were all kinds of wildlife too, from bugs and lizards to deer.

Tuck continued, “Mac came up here a couple of weeks ago, looking for a spot for us to camp. Here in a bit, we’re going to cut cross-country to reach the spot he picked.”

For the first time, Judy noticed that Mr. MacGregor was about a quarter of a mile ahead of them. If Tuck was following him, why not follow closer? Then Judy realized that Tuck was staying just back of where the dust plume from the other car faded away. Judy realized that he was doing it so the people in the van wouldn’t have to breath the dust Mr. MacGregor’s car kicked up. Thinking that, she also realized she hadn’t seen another car for a quite a while.

“Are we going to do any hiking?” Lydia asked from her seat in the middle, next to Sarah Flowers. Lydia loved to walk, almost as much as she liked to play the guitar.

Tuck laughed, but it wasn’t mean or sarcastic. “Tomorrow, we split into two groups. Those who are demented can go with Mac and cross the Verde River on the cable car. Those who are sheep can follow me across the Sheep Bridge. We will all do a fair amount of walking.”

Ahead of them, Mr. MacGregor was slowing, his right turn blinker on. Off to the right, Judy had been able to see the Verde River in places for the last few miles, they were still about a mile or so away from it, but now they were turning directly towards it.

“Like I said, we’re going cross-country, so don’t get excited when we leave the road,” Tuck said, as he too slowed and put on his blinker.

Judy tried to see where they were going, but the problem with sitting in the middle of the back seat was that she had a lousy view in every direction. Judy wished she could see what Tuck was seeing right then, driving without a road. It would have been even more interesting to be with Mr. MacGregor, going across the trackless desert.

Judy never figured out what happened next. She had impressions, but a poor vantage point to see from.

Without warning, there was an instant of darkness, and then it was like being in some sort of rainbow light show for another second or two. It looked like being inside a waterfall of rainbows.

Judy glanced to the right side and saw where the rainbows vanished. Instead of rainbows, about forty feet away were a half-dozen men. She didn’t have a good view of them past Becky, but it was enough to see that all but one of the men were holding the reins of horses. Each man was dressed in what looked like some sort of chain mail armor shirts. The men were carrying very long rifles, slung over their shoulders.

The van’s brakes grabbed, throwing Judy forward. Only a quick move kept her from smashing into the seat in front of her. Becky, next to Judy, did fly forward, sprawling in the space in front of the middle door.

The van swerved sharply and for a second Judy could clearly see the wall of whatever they were inside, a few feet past the window. It looked like silvery mesh; a mesh that seemed to pulse with faintly rainbow-colored light, with a vague view of the desert beyond it. A desert that shimmered and flickered oddly.

Then Tuck slammed the gearshift into reverse and floored the accelerator. Judy was pushed back against the seat, just as the rainbows started again.

There was another instant’s blackness followed by hard sunlight once again. Then an abrupt bump, as the van ran into something solid, stopping it, giving the occupants one last jolt.

Judy had time to take a breath, before the screams started. Mrs. Flowers, Sarah, and Becky from the floor. Lydia gasped, and Judy felt the girl next to her move so that her hand was down between them, trying to get into her pocket.

“Oh, my God!” Lydia exclaimed, crossing herself. “What happened?”

“Calm down,” Tuck’s voice was clear, calm and confident. “Just sit still for a second.”

“What was that?” Mrs. Flowers asked.

“I have no idea,” Tuck told her. “Please everyone, sit still. Try to calm down!”

Judy was amazed at how short people’s memories were. Maybe a minute later, there wasn’t a sound, and the relief was perceptible, too.

“I’m going outside to have a look,” Tuck explained carefully. “I want you all to sit here, quietly, while I’m gone. Please do not freak when I take out my pistol.”

In spite of that, when he drew a holstered pistol out of the pocket next to his seat, there were audible gasps. Mrs. Flowers said bitterly, “Is that really necessary?”

“I don’t know, so better to err on the side of caution,” Tuck told her. Judy nodded emphatically at that.

He closed the door behind him, but didn’t latch it. Judy watched him stand still, looking around. After a bit, he moved, slowly circling the van, obviously looking around. He was wearing the pistol on his hip in the holster, not holding it ready. He kept his back towards the van and never got further than a step away from it.

Judy watched Tuck as he circled around outside, using the time to get a grip on her own emotions, trying to think through what had happened.

When Tuck finished his circuit of the van, he popped his door open again. “I’m going to fire three shots into the air. That’s a signal to Mr. MacGregor; we seem to have gotten separated. Please don’t be alarmed.”

Judy saw he was studiously looking at the rest of them, not Mrs. Flowers. It was like a little light going on over Judy’s head. Oh! Mrs. Flowers doesn’t like guns! She didn’t like soldiers! What was she doing here then, with her daughter?

Outside, Tuck’s pistol cracked once, twice, three times. Each shot was a couple of seconds apart, each crisp and sharp, the echoes racketing back from the hills around them.

There was, though, no discernible reply.

A minute passed, then Tuck returned again. “I’m going to take a longer look around. Roll down the passenger window, Mrs. Flowers. The rest of you, please open the side windows. I’m not going to be out of sight, but if you think you need help, just beep the horn.” He waved at the steering wheel. “Just keep calm, keep cool. Please don’t get out of the van.”

After five minutes, Judy was quite convinced that waiting was really harder than being outside, with something to do. Judy wasn’t sure why she felt better when she could see Tuck, she just knew that she did.

Still, Tuck eventually came back. This time he motioned for them to get out.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” Tuck said simply. “At the least, we seem to have gotten separated from Mr. MacGregor. Since I know where I am, that has to mean he’s the one lost. Think of what a fine story you’ll be able to tell on Monday!

“You might as well get out,” he concluded.

The entire group clustered together tightly, just a step from the van, all eyes on Tuck.

“I’d like to tell you I know what’s happened. I don’t know, so I’m not going to try.” Tuck waved around them, pointing at landmarks. “The Verde River is over there. There’s Mazatzal Peak to the northeast, and over there to the southeast is Lion Mountain. So, I know where we are. I want everyone to take a few slow, deep breaths and relax.”

Judy looked around, identifying the places he had pointed out. When he asked them to take a few breaths, Judy glanced towards the back of the van. It had hit a rock that was about three feet high and about that wide, leaving a crease in Tuck’s back bumper. She turned to look in front of the van. She remembered them stopping, starting to back up, there in that other place.

She froze. Her breathing stopped...it seemed like her heart stopped too. About ten feet in front of the van the tire tracks appeared in the desert sand. They were clearly visible in the soft ground of the desert. And just as clear as if it was spelled out, the tracks started in the middle of a sandy spot. There were smudges where the van had started, then a clear track back to where it had stopped.

But, nothing beyond. She turned, looked behind them. They might have missed the rock the first time, but the desert sand was soft. There was just a short set of tracks where the van had rolled backward and nothing else. It looked as if the van had been dropped into the desert, rolled backwards a few feet and then had stopped.

She lifted her eyes and met Tuck’s. He gave her a minute head shake. Judy swallowed. Tuck had just told her to keep her mouth shut! Nicely, but that was the message. Why? This was a pretty remarkable thing that had happened!

“Ladies,” Tuck spoke again, “it’s getting on towards six. In about an hour, it’s going to be dark. What I’d like to do is put up the big tent I brought, then we can see what we can put together for dinner.” He smiled reassuringly.

When he said the time, Judy checked her watch. It was still ticking, showing a quarter of the hour.

Tuck walked to the back of the van and opened the rear door. “Let’s wait to get the rest of the gear out, until we get the tent up.” He reached in, picked up the tent bag one handed and lifted it clear, putting it on the ground.

“Now, since we’re here anyway, let’s pretend that we’ve reached where we wanted to go. Where’s a good place to pitch a tent, that’s ten feet on a side?”

Judy spoke up, “There’s a clear spot in front of the van. If we put it to one side, we can build a fire in the clear area.”

No one else spoke, so he smiled and gestured at Judy. “Why don’t you take charge of getting the tent set up?” Tuck then turned to Elspeth. “Elspeth?”

“Yeah?” The other girl was, if anything, ruder than Mrs. Flowers.

“Why don’t you help Judy carry the tent and get it set up?”

Elspeth pushed forward and grabbed the tent. It didn’t move when she tugged.

Judy took hold and lifted. Gosh! It was really heavy! Really, really heavy! “I can carry this...about three steps,” Judy told Elspeth. “Please, would you help me carry it?”

The other girl looked at the tent, then looked at Judy. Without a word, she got a grip on the bag, and between the two of them they carried it forward. Judy aimed for a spot in the middle, put it down, and then undid the fat green clip that closed the bag.

Without a word, Judy started tugging, and Elspeth lent a hand, until the canvas was all out of the bag. There was a tangle of ropes, a series of poles.

“I don’t see any instructions,” Elspeth said, looking a little frustrated.

Judy started spreading out the heavy canvas over the ground, finding a bundle with steel stakes in a cloth bag inside the tent.

With a nod to herself, she stood up and went to Tuck. “Tuck, do you have a hammer for the stakes?”

He’d been standing looking off into the desert, towards the river. Judy was startled when he held out his hand with a short-handled sledgehammer in it. “This works for me.”

Judy took it and started away.

“Ladies, may I have your attention for a moment? Please gather around.”

Judy walked over to the tent and dropped the heavy hammer on top of it and then returned.

“Two things for you to think about.” He gestured at the tent. “You should all get together and help put up the tent. The desert gets chilly at night, but working together you can get it up quickly.

“Some of you are going to feel the urge at some point to go off into the bushes.” There were a few blushes, but Judy wasn’t one of those who did. “Don’t go by yourself. Go in a group. Don’t go anywhere by yourself and don’t go anywhere more than a few steps from the van without telling either Mrs. Flowers or myself where you are going and how long you are going to be.

“You’ve all seen the ‘Think Ahead’ sign where the last few letters are jumbled. Well, think ahead, ladies! If you decide to do something, stop! Take an extra second or two, and think carefully about what you want to do. Maybe discuss it with a friend.”

He waved a ways off. “There’s a small gully over there, and a clump of bushes just over the edge. I’m going to visit the bushes with my trusty shovel and dig a small latrine pit. It will smell a lot better if, after you use it, you put a little dirt in the hole.”

He did as he said, walking a ways off, out of sight. Judy returned to the tent, took one of the stakes and hammered it into the ground through a loop at one of the back corners.

To Judy’s surprise, Elspeth laughed. “Yeah, that works!” She pointed to Lydia and Becky. “Would you give us a hand with this?” Elspeth started tugging on the heavy canvas, until it was pretty tight at the next corner.

Judy hammered in another stake. “Sarah, why don’t you get more of the stakes out, and put them next to each loop?” Judy asked, and her classmate nodded and went to get some.

It wasn’t really all that hard. They did the four corners, and then Elspeth and Lydia went inside with some of the poles, and lifted the tent up, while Judy continued to pound stakes outside.

When Judy was about half done, Becky took the hammer and she hammered stakes for some of the ropes. It took only a half hour before they were done putting up the tent. Judy was quite pleased with the job they’d done. It was a really nice tent, large, spacious and with lots of headroom.

Tuck returned from his explorations. He’d glanced at Mrs. Flowers who was sitting inside the van, the door open. Judy couldn’t read anything from his face, but she doubted if he was happy. Tuck had checked the tent, and then went to work making a fire pit about twenty feet in front of the tent.

When everyone gathered around to talk about what to eat, Mrs. Flowers finally joined the rest of them. Tuck produced a large pot and it was decided to dump in a couple of cans of chicken soup along with some other vegetables people had brought. Tuck added a couple cups of rice as well, after everything else. Tuck handed Mrs. Flowers a large wooden cooking spoon, but the woman shook her head, giving the spoon instead to Sarah.

Judy helped fetch more wood for the fire, and then took a small drink from her canteen. Becky and Lydia came over to where she was standing and Judy passed them her canteen.

The three of them were off to one side, no one else close. “What happened?” Becky asked. “I landed on the floor, I didn’t see much of anything.”

Lydia, who actually had a window seat, described what she’d seen. It was clear, Judy thought, Lydia had been looking to the left and hadn’t seen the men or the horses, just the rainbows and the wire mesh.

Becky turned to Judy. “What did you see Judy?”

Judy contemplated not saying anything; she couldn’t bring herself to do it, though. What would be the difference between that and lying?

“On the right side I could see a half dozen men. Most of them were leading horses. They looked like soldiers from the Middle Ages or maybe conquistadors. They had armor and their horses had armor. They were carrying what looked like guns of some sort. Long ones.”

“You could be mistaken,” Becky’s voice was suddenly shaky.

Judy nodded. “I’d wonder too, except that when Tuck was pointing out things, the one thing he didn’t point out was the road we drove here on.” Judy could see mild skepticism on Lydia’s face, more so on Becky’s. “I think we should be careful,” Judy told them.

“I’m not sure I trust him,” Becky spoke softly, her eyes indicating Tuck.

For a change, it was quiet Lydia who spoke. “The alternative is to trust Mrs. Flowers.” Judy snickered and Becky shook her head, acknowledging that had been a stupid idea.

Finally, it was well after dark and everyone was sitting around the fire, the three friends mostly talking among themselves. Lydia pulled out her guitar and played some simple songs. Judy wasn’t unhappy with that, because Lydia knew a lot of songs, some of them pretty complicated, but all of them nice.

Mrs. Flowers mainly talked to Sarah. Elspeth sat off to one side, there was almost a visible wall of thorns around her. Tuck sang along and then spent some time talking with Judy, Becky and Lydia. School stuff mostly, nothing about what had happened.

Tuck tried to include Sarah and Mrs. Flowers, but he didn’t push it when they didn’t respond, and he didn’t even bother to try with Elspeth.

Judy watched Tuck a lot. She could see him thinking. His eyes would go around the area every few minutes. Twice, he went away from the fire, returning after a few minutes with wood. But Judy didn’t think that was the only reason why he went out.

Tuck ostentatiously checked his watch. “I know it’s just nine,” he spoke a little loud, over the crackling of the fire. “I think, though, you should go to sleep early so we can get an early start back to Phoenix, first thing in the morning. We’ll have breakfast and then get going. If Mr. MacGregor and the others are in trouble, we have to get people looking for them as soon as possible.”

Judy stared at him intently as he spoke. Why was she sure that it wasn’t Mr. MacGregor who needed rescue? They were sitting comfortably around a crackling campfire. There was no wind to speak of and the smoke was going straight up. Everyone had eaten a nice dinner, there was a nice tent to sleep in, and everyone had warm sleeping bags to sleep in. You’d think they were pretty safe. Yet, in her bones, Judy didn’t think so, not for a minute.

Tuck smiled. “I’ll give you a Coleman lantern for light to get ready for bed, but remember, when it’s on, you can sort of, almost, see through the canvas. There will be a flashlight just inside the door of the tent too, so that if you get up in the middle of the night, you can find your way. You’d be smart to wake someone else up to go with you.

“We have a full moon coming up. I’ll be on watch during the night.”

Judy looked, and indeed she could see the moon coming up, although it looked more like a half moon than a full moon. She swallowed, and then swallowed hard again. It was like before, when she’d noticed the tire tracks. As Judy had left for school this morning, the moon had been full and just setting. Tonight it was early to rise and was in the wrong phase.

Tuck handed Mrs. Flowers the lantern, the movement snapping Judy back to the moment. Why did he say you could see through the canvas with the light on? Judy was intimately familiar now with the tent; at most you could see a vague shape through the heavy material. Then Judy remembered her flush of embarrassment. Tuck had said that so that they wouldn’t take their clothes off! Everyone was going to sleep fully dressed, after what he said! Judy grinned to herself. That had been tricky!

In spite of everything, once everyone was inside and settled and the lantern was turned off, Judy lay in her sleeping bag, staring into the darkness. Sleep would not come.

Eventually, Judy gave up and went outside, standing near the entrance to the tent. The fire was out, quite out. Tuck had even put dirt on the fire; there was no hint of life from it, only a very faint smell of smoke.

Even with the half moon, there was enough light to see fairly well. She saw Tuck standing as he had been when she’d first seen him this afternoon, his foot cocked back against the bumper of the van. This time though, he was looking upwards into the sky, not sleeping under his hat.

Judy walked up to him, saw him glance her way, and then he went back to contemplating the sky.

“I like looking at the Milky Way,” Judy said quietly. “You don’t get to see it from Phoenix.”

Tuck chuckled. “No, no you can’t. It is pretty.”

“What happened, Tuck?” She knew it was rude to just come out and ask, but what could she do?

“I don’t know. I know a lot of things, but that I don’t know.” He pointed to the southeast. “Over there, I should be able to see the cable crossing on the Verde. I can’t see it. I should be able to see Horseshoe Lake over there; all I see is the river.”

He waved to the northeast. “Up there should be the Sheep Bridge. It’s not much of a bridge, but here there’s no bridge at all.” Again he gestured, this time back south.

“I’ve been coming up here since before I was your age. All those years I’d look south and see the sky glow from Phoenix. Over the years it has steadily grown brighter, but tonight it’s gone.”

Judy looked south. There were stars there, right down to the horizon. She’d seen the sky glow from the city herself, but it wasn’t there tonight. She scanned around the horizon. There were no lights that she could see at all. Just the moon, slowly rising higher into the sky. It was going to set much earlier than it had yesterday, too.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I saw the tire tracks,” Judy said, her voice a whisper. “I can’t believe my own eyes. Yet, here I am. Here we all are.”

“Something happened,” he agreed. “I don’t know what, in spite of having seen...something. I don’t understand what I saw, so finding a good explanation...” He shrugged. “Still, like you say, here we are.”

“Mr. MacGregor was always saying when he teaches math, two plus two always equals four, no matter how big you make two. Here, we have X. Two plus something equals X. This time, I think it’s a really big something, because X is really strange.”

Next to her, Tuck chuckled. “Why do I think you get straight A’s?”

Judy didn’t know what to say, so she said what popped up first in her mind. “I got a B last year in chorus.”

He chuckled again. “Judy, it’s after midnight. You really should get some sleep.”

“I’m not even a little tired. Why don’t you rest a bit, and I’ll watch? I promise I’ll wake you up if I get sleepy.”

“Or if you see or hear something,” he amended.

“Or if I see or hear anything you need to know about,” Judy modified his comment.

“When I got off the plane in Vietnam,” Tuck told her, “Mac was there to meet the green first lieutenant, just out of Army ROTC at Arizona State, with only a short detour to snake eating school and a quickie class to learn how to jump out of airplanes that worked just fine and didn’t need to be jumped out of.

“’Don’t get killed,’ Mac told me, ‘you seem like a nice guy, pretty smart. If you get killed, I’ll have to train me someone else.” Tuck was silent for a moment. “I didn’t get killed. I did learn a lot of things from Mac.” He chuckled. “Including how to delegate. Don’t push it, Judy.”

He simply pulled the Stetson down over his eyes and leaned back against the van like he’d done earlier.

Judy looked at Tuck for a second and then shook her head. She couldn’t imagine being able to sleep standing like that. Yet Judy was sure he was asleep, she was also sure it had been something he learned in Vietnam.

That led Judy to wonder about her brother. She had a terrible feeling about Carl; she didn’t think he’d told her the truth about what it had been like over there. The stories Mr. MacGregor told, like those her brother told, were mostly funny. They were completely at odds with the nightly news had been. Her father and even her mother had prevented their seven-year-old daughter from seeing very much.

The stars slowly wheeled, the moon rose steadily until it reached the zenith. Judy walked in a small circle around the tent, not straying far from the standing shape, who, so far as she could tell, never moved.

A few times coyotes yipped or howled in the distance; other than that, it was silent. Finally, around three, she walked over to Tuck.

“Get some sleep, Judy,” he told her as she got close, before she could speak. He pushed his hat back, glanced up at the moon. “Two and a half hours until dawn. Don’t rush waking up.” He stretched and yawned, and then grinned at her.

“You know anything about raising horses?” he asked. Judy shook her head.

“Let’s just say that it can mean long, long, hours and that's most of the time. In the spring you can go days at a time nonstop.” He sighed, looked up at the clear stars. “Mac promised me a vacation for a couple of days. I was pretty frazzled; I needed it. Then this...” He reached out, touched her shoulder for a brief second. “Thanks, Judy.”

She nodded, then walked back to the tent, laid down on her sleeping bag and was asleep an instant later.

In the morning, at first, the stirrings of the others didn’t bother Judy, but the smell of smoke and cooking bacon changed that a little later. She got up, contemplated changing clothes. Then she decided, why bother? Instead, she did something she hadn’t done yesterday and should have. She pulled the knife her brother had given her out of her backpack and strapped it to her belt.

As she and the others were finishing up breakfast, Tuck spoke to them. “I am going on a longer look see. I’ll be gone about an hour. You will all stay here; you will all listen to Mrs. Flowers and do whatever she asks you to. Above all, don’t wander around!”

“What has happened to us?” Sarah Flowers asked.

He simply shook his head. “I have no idea. Something has happened, that’s for sure. I just don’t know what. I do know that we’ve become separated from Mr. MacGregor. I want you to take the tent down while I’m gone, put it back in its bag, and then put it and everything you have, back in the van. As soon as I get back, we’ll go.”

“This isn’t some sort of trick?” Mrs. Flowers asked.

Tuck looked her right in the eye. “Mac has a stable of practical jokes, I’ll grant you that. For the most part, they consist of things like letting you taste the water from a barrel cactus. You’ve all heard about drinking water from a barrel cactus?”

Everyone nodded.

Tuck laughed at them. “Let me tell you, don’t do it! First off, it’s illegal these days. Secondly, once you’ve tasted it, you might well consider dying of thirst a nicer alternative. It’s pretty awful.

“So, no, this isn’t a trick we’ve cooked up.”

“Why not just leave now?” Becky asked.

Tuck looked at her seriously and answered her the same way. “I have a van, not a four-wheel drive. I need to find the road and then I need to find a way to get to the road without getting stuck. You folks finish breakfast and then start getting things ready to go. I’ll be back inside an hour. Like yesterday, if you need anything, beep the horn.”

Again, it was Judy and Elspeth who did most of the work on the tent. It was a lot easier to take down, although it wasn’t as simple to roll up as tight as it had to be rolled in order to get it back in the bag.

Still, everyone was ready long before Tuck returned.

He came up, looked around, nodded to them. “I can’t find the road,” he said simply. “So, I scouted a way about a mile south, and I can see another mile or so past that. We’ll mount up and go as far as we can. Then I’ll look around again. Please, try not to drink anything unless you absolutely must.”

“Tuck?” Elspeth had been standing off to one side, mostly not paying much attention to Tuck. When she spoke, everyone turned to look at her.

“There’s a cloud of dust, over there, across the river.”

She pointed into the distance, to the mountains four or five miles away. There was a clear plume of dust visible, coming down off the hills.


	3. Dust on a Clear Day

I

Lieutenant Gamelin of High King Kalvan’s Western Mounted Rifles pulled his horse up at the break of the ridge. He raised his arm to signal the halt and heard the command shouted by his senior sergeant.

Twenty-five dusty, sweat-soaked troopers pulled up with a creak of leather and a rattle of equipment.

“Dismount! Take a break! See to your mounts! We'll walk for the next palm width!" Gamelin's voice was clear and sharp in the early morning sun.

Early in the patrol, Gamelin had forgotten to take a sip of water just before the break and his voice cracked when he called the halt. No one had laughed out loud, but he'd seen the smiles. He would never forget that again! You had to remember the little things as well as the big things. There were so many things to remember as a junior officer!

There was a loud clatter of gear as everyone climbed down from their horses. Most of these country militia were too tired for anything other than doing what they were told, but a couple of them still grumbled about having to walk so often.

Gamelin smiled to himself. Two days before, he had made two of the loudest complainers ride while the others walked. Sure enough, their horses had nearly collapsed before the next break. This desert wasn't the Grass Sea that most of them were used to. Since then the arid, rugged terrain had kept them mostly quiet. The parched desert and barren mountains had a way of bringing out the worst in anyone, much less militia, even the High King’s militia.

Gamelin tended to Hellfire, his well-named black gelding. First, he wiped the dust and sweat from the horse’s nostrils, then doled out just a little water. Soon they'd be at the river, but it never hurt to be careful. Once he finished taking care of his horse, a quick glance showed the pickets were where they belonged. He leaned against a rock, using Hellfire as a source of shade. He dozed for a finger width.

Count Errock, the commander at Outpost, had not cared that Gamelin was the eldest son of the Count of the Trygath or anything else about Gamelin’s past. Only the bare fact that Gamelin had passed out of the High King's Junior Officer Academy in Hostigos. The count had made it clear that the mission was what was important and how well he, Gamelin, carried it out. Gamelin had been treated with deference all of his life and it had always left him feeling uncomfortable. This felt comfortable.

What mattered to these soldiers was what kind of a soldier he was, not who his father was. Count Errock had been quite definite about his requirements for a new officer posted to the frontier: "I want an officer who does what he is told, done in the time he is told to do it in, with no complaints. If you can't do that, then I suggest you get back on that fancy eunuch of a horse and ride east, not west."

The count was a hard man, known to one and all. Gamelin smiled to himself. The count had been picked personally by the High King for the honor of commanding the High King’s town that was furthest west.

It was fair enough what the count had said to him, Gamelin thought, except about his horse. True, Hellfire was a eunuch and his gear fancy but...

Gamelin had never faulted his father for the decision to neuter Hellfire. The horse had killed two grooms as a yearling and crippled another within a moon quarter after gelding. Everyone counted that as an improvement in temper. Still, he and the horse had some sort of communication, as Hellfire did whatever it was that Gamelin wanted him to. Where anyone else would risk their anatomy to kicks or bites or worse, Gamelin experienced either boredom or petulance.

From his older sister discussing the advantages and disadvantages of her various suitors, Gamelin had learned patience in the face of boredom. Having three younger brothers, who, if they put their heads together, could lace their own boots, he had learned the futility of anger and frustration when faced with petulance and stupidity. Patience had been useful there, as well.

So here he was, commanding his first patrol as a junior lieutenant, more than a moon quarter away from Outpost! By Galzar, he was going to do his duty and do it right! He was not due back until the end of a moon! On his own! His duty was to patrol from Outpost–a poor name for a town there was, no matter how descriptive–southwest until they reached the Dextra River thence southeast, skirting the deep Canyon of the Dextra until they could turn north and return to Outpost. A moon, if you didn't waste any time.

Count Errock had told Gamelin that he would dock his pay a gold Kalvan for each day past a moon that his patrol was out. Gamelin's regular pay was the least of his income, but it was the principle that mattered. He had no intention of losing anything.

Few folk lived in these mountains and those that did were quiet farmers or herdsmen, not looking for trouble. There was a growing series of nominally independent communities south of the Dextra River, in the area called Two Rivers by the locals. Most were farmers, but some were goat and horse herders, intermixed with a few small traders. The area they lived in was too hard for most and as such was not formally claimed. Nonetheless, when the patrols of the High King came through every moon, they were fed, their horses watered and grain and fresh food was provided for them without demur...and the locals always refused payment.

There were a few brave settlements a little further south, then an arm of the Great Desert, hundreds of miles of trackless waste. Buried someplace in that vastness were the northern strongholds of the Mexicotál. Nobody had ever marched a column into that desert and returned to tell the tale. Oh, you could take a ship, coastwise, and reach the Heartlands of the Mexicotál God-King’s kingdom. There they were polite enough if you’d brought enough ships, soldiers, and cannon. But that was a long way to the south.

The Mexicotál, as they called themselves, had lived in the far south long ago when Gamelin's legendary forbearers had first come to this place from the Land of the Gods, also known as the Winter Kingdom. His ancestors had forced the native tribes who originally lived in the new lands they were conquering south and east as they spread across the continent from where they had crossed from the Cold Lands. That time was long ago and was mainly known from tales of great battles and brave deeds.

This corner, hot, desolate and dry ten months of the year had not appealed to the newcomers and they had stayed further north. Finally, his ancestors had pushed on following the rivers to the Great Eastern Ocean. This corner of the world hadn't appealed to many of those who had been forced to move either and they had mostly continued south. The few who survived the journey across the desert regretted their choice as the Mexicotál had enslaved them and used them as sacrificial material in the worship of their God-King.

So the people here had stayed isolated, not worth conquering by his forbearers. The original natives were called the Ruthani, and these here were called the “Lost Ruthani” as they had gone a different direction than the rest of their forbearers. Time passed on and the survivors among the Lost Ruthani managed to eke out a bare living, mostly using the new ways stolen from their more successful neighbors. Gradually they had mixed with a few Zarthani, as Gamelin's people called themselves. 

Trade developed between the Zarthani and the Ruthani. Fighting cost too much and the fighting had been with people not much richer than they were, but far better armed. There was no point, there had been nothing to be gained. The Lost Ruthani had gradually adopted iron, and then steel tools, long after their cousins who still lived north of the Grass Sea had done so. Horses were a Zarthani transplant but not many of the Lost Ruthani had them. This country wasn’t nearly as good for horses as the Trygath was.

Everything had changed a few hundred years before. A priest of Styphon had discovered fireseed and the division between the peoples became as dramatic as when the first iron-armed and armored Zarthani had come off their ships. The priests of Styphon had used fireseed to control kings and princes, but no weapons or fireseed were traded to the heretical Mexicotál, or the various Ruthani in the Sea of Grass or the mountain west.

The Mexicotál, never friendly, had quickly grown even less tolerant, ever more jealous of their neighbors to the north. The Mexicotál had vast resources of gold and silver, but above all, they had people. The Mexicotál had not been able to buy more than a few fireseed weapons and even less fireseed. That had not stopped them from coveting these riches or now and then, trying to take them.

The priests of Styphon had not been unduly concerned. The Mexicotál were a long ways off, and were, practically speaking, powerless for all of their resources in men and gold. The Mexicotál would attack with bows and primitive armor, to be met with musket and cannon shot, used by men wearing steel armor. It was never much of a contest.

Then, just a few years ago, a strange foreigner by the name of Kalvan had raised a bloody standard near the Eastern Ocean. Crying "Down Styphon!" he had exploded from Hostigos, a minor principality within Hos-Harphax, a Great Kingdom along the Eastern Ocean, close even, unto the heart of Styphon. The Princedom of Hostigos had suffered under the Ban of Styphon as they had refused to do the will of the Great God Styphon and had been refused Styphon’s Holy Miracle, known as fireseed.

Common wisdom had said they were doomed.

Kalvan quickly became Lord Kalvan. Lord Kalvan knew how to produce fireseed, something that had until then been reserved for the priests of Styphon. Hostigos began making its own fireseed, and what’s more, using it to great effect against their enemies.

Hardly more than two moons passed, with everyone talking about this amazing new prince from a distant land, then abruptly, he was Great King Kalvan. The armies of three neighboring princedoms were shattered, the remains of their armies scattered to the winds, the leaders of those princedoms, those that survived, were reduced to flogging their horses in desperate fear for their lives. More battles followed and Styphon's House had struck back like a rabid dog. The kingdom of Hostigos was destroyed utterly, depopulated by the Investigations of Styphon seeking out heresy.

The High King had managed to retreat, and then stopped Styphon’s Host in Thagnor, a kingdom in the Upper Middle Kingdoms by the Saltless Seas. Then the next fighting season the High King had come marching back, to take bloody vengeance on those who had despoiled his kingdom. 

"Dralm sent, Galzar taught” everyone said. The priests of Styphon had been unspeakably vile and cruel. Most people, even Great Kings, had paid them lip service only and had taken pleasure at their discomfiture and rejoiced when they were overthrown.

But other Great Kings did not take kindly to anything else Great King Kalvan did. The new Great King was a genius with weapons, strategy and tactics. His new rifles shot further, straighter, faster, and cheaper than anyone else's. His cannon were light, mobile enough to keep up with cavalry over almost any kind of ground. They also shot further, straighter, etc.

The way Great King Kalvan treated his soldiers was nearly as revolutionary as his weaponry. Mercenaries were employed, but only reluctantly, usually only after they surrendered to his arms. Individual mercenaries were given grants of land and settled as new yeomen and minor barons. Later they took Great King Kalvan's colors in the fashion of yeoman soldiery rather than mercenaries. Styphon was crushed and the few supporters they had left had either fled or had sued for peace.

The few remaining Great Kings organized to attack Great King Kalvan in concert, only to find that once again while they were sitting and talking, Great King Kalvan was doing. Everyone had known that Great King Kalvan did not tolerate slavery and serfdom and had abolished both in his lands.

Kalvan, with the proceeds from his success against Styphon's House, started purchasing empty land and livestock. Any soldierly family man, anywhere, could petition the Great King for the Soldier’s Reward–a horse or mule and two cows and a piece of land six hundred paces on a side. All a man had to do was have a wife, pledge repayment of ten gold Kalvans over twenty years and pledge not to take up arms against Great King Kalvan. There had been no pledge that said they couldn’t take up arms for the new Great King. Most did. Ex-slaves and ex-serfs were particularly welcome.

The result had been hard and bitter for some of the former Great Kings, but they finally recognized a High King, someone whom they all, however unwilling, gave precedence to. The resulting peace had lasted nearly seven years now.

Gamelin stopped daydreaming, stood, and raised his arm and shouted. The men of his patrol troop shook themselves from the ground, formed up and once again began moving forward, now walking and leading their horses. They were finally coming out of the mountains, nearing the Wen-rotos River.

Gamelin still had a little time for thinking as he walked, careful watching where he put his feet.

Twice in the last fifty years the Mexicotál had come north in force. The last time had been seven years before, thinking to catch the High King still disorganized from his conquests.

It had taken almost a year for the High King's army to come west, but he had sent one of his chief generals, Captain-General Hestophes, in his stead. Hestophes’ First Mounted Rifles had stopped the Mexicotál and when the main force and the High King arrived, they sent the Mexicotál reeling back to the south after a moon of hard campaigning and two great battles. The Mexicotál had never been a match for the weapons of Styphon and faced with the weapons and tactics of the High King, the struggle had been brief, bloody and decisive.

The fighting, though, could start up again tomorrow. Or today. That was something that Count Errock had emphasized before Gamelin had left on patrol. The Mexicotál had never loved any of the Northerners and the High King had hurt them badly. Rumors were afloat that the Kingdom of Zarthan on the Western Ocean was going to combine with the Mexicotál to attack the High King.

The Kingdom of Zarthan occupied the lands their ancestors had first conquered. After many hundreds of years of fighting, the last of the Ruthani, the natives, were driven north and east. The Kingdom of Zarthan had some of the most fertile farmland anywhere, plus mild weather and gentle rains. A great many people had been born, and there was a steady push eastwards. It had taken Gamelin’s ancestors a very long time to subdue the continent, and in truth, there were parts not that subdued. But that was then and this was now! Now something amazing had happened!

Lord Kalvan, the High King! Now there was a man! The High King had shaken the whole world! And in shaking it, brought down the House of the Great God, Styphon, tossing the armies of the false god aside like twigs in a great freshet. Great Kings had found it easier to join the High King than fight him. It was far safer to swallow one's pride than lose one's head. Galzar knew, there had been enough examples of what happened if pride exceeded caution. And the High King's Mercy was as famous as his vengeance.

After the Mexicotál had been driven back, a great peace had fallen across the whole world. Only Zarthan, far away on the coast of the Western ocean refused to join the High King's liegemen. And it was there that the remnants of False Styphon had taken refuge.

Tremosh, King of Zarthan, aided by Lomax, the new Supreme Priest of Styphon, had taken the events under consideration and reached the conclusion that the High King fought only in defense. They realized that if they refrained from attacking him, they could bide their time in peace.

Everyone was amazed that the High King's Peace had lasted for more than a half decade. Everyone knew that Tremosh and Lomax spent every waking moment–and probably a lot of sleep–plotting against the High King. Someday they would try to regain what Styphon had lost. Many hoped that the few doddering remnants of False Styphon were too tired and demoralized to ever aspire to their former greatness. Zarthan had been great long ago but no one really thought much of them any more.

But that was the view in the East, far from these lands. Here the danger was an immediate, dangerous presence, hovering just beyond the western and southern horizons.

That was why Gamelin was patrolling this territory. The High King felt that so long as he remained strong and prepared and let everyone know it, his enemies would realize that they couldn't win and so they wouldn't try. It had worked so far, but not even the High King expected it to work much longer...and that meant his soldiers stayed alert and on watch. 

The column descended out of the last of the hills on an easy trail and again Gamelin was pleased with himself. Most of his men, no doubt, thought it was an accident that they were walking downhill, but he had been timing this for days. The path was certainly ridable, but the flat lands before the river were covered with broken lava, a difficult trip for a laden horse. They would reach the river in time for the High Sun break and then they could cross the river well rested, both men and horses.

Taking care of the men and horses wasn’t something he'd learned at the High King's school for officers, although it had been certainly taught there. The Trygathi were the world's greatest horsemen and Gamelin counted himself as one of the best in all of the Trygath. Taking care of your horse and yourself was something Trygathi learned sucking on their mother's teat. As for taking care of the troops who were his responsibility: his father had more than once striped his back when he had erred learning that! 

A movement in the brush in front of him shattered Gamelin’s reverie.

One of the Ruthani scouts, a short dusky man named Tendai, appeared in front of Gamelin, stepping from between a pair of bushes.

"Lord Gamelin, as we approached the river, we saw a flash of light from armor, from the other side of the river. Tubai remains on watch," the scout reported. The column had come to a halt with the advent of the scout.

The two scouts were brothers, local folk, who lived near Outpost. They disdained the use of horses, being able to travel as fast as men on horseback. Count Errock had told him so; Gamelin had originally privately doubted it. But, no longer. He'd seen it himself. Not only were the scouts as fast as horses, they could scout forward, return and report, and then move forward again. That was three times as far as his troopers moved–and even faster.

"Return to the river and keep watch. Wait until we come up and we'll cover your crossing," Gamelin ordered.

The scout frowned; obviously, whoever went across first would be subject to the most risk. "I'll send a couple troopers with you as well," Gamelin continued. The other nodded and as abruptly as he had appeared, vanished back into the brush.

"Sergeant Tremos!” Gamelin called. The newest sergeant at Outpost came running up to the newest officer. "The scouts have seen something suspicious on the other side of the river. Take three men and all of the packhorses. Make your way to the little hill over there.” Gamelin pointed at a small rocky knoll a quarter mile away. "If everything is okay, we will flash the mirrors three-one-three, and you rejoin us at once. Anything else, or if you have not seen the flashes by the time the sun is so,” Gamelin pointed two palm widths past High Sun, "You will return with all speed to Outpost and report to Count Errock."

Gamelin looked at the sergeant for a moment and then added, "Take your time getting to the hill. No dust." The other saluted and gathered his men and animals and headed away.

Armor was an important bit of intelligence. Hunters could easily be out here, but the locals didn’t have anything in the way of armor. Armor, though, was something soldiers would wear.

"Sergeant Vosper!"

The other of his two sergeants, a regular veteran, had already moved up to his elbow a few moments before. "Lord Gamelin," the other reported smartly.

"Have everyone see to their priming. Pick four men for point duty and put them about three hundred paces to our front, mounted and well apart. The rest of us will stay in a dismounted column of twos until we get closer to the river. Then we’ll form a skirmish line abreast, still dismounted. We'll advance that way to the river. Caution everyone about raising dust.”

On the Great Sea of Grass you could afford to be careless about dust. Here, not so. Here, if you raised dust, it was as if you sent a message telling your whereabouts, your speed and how many you were, to your enemies.

The veteran sergeant nodded briskly and went back along the line giving the orders. It was still a couple of miles to the river and if possible Gamelin wanted to walk the horses most or all of the way. There was no telling how much work they would have to do later this day. There wasn't much chance of approaching unnoticed as even walking their horses would raise dust, but they would certainly be spotted sooner, mounted. Still you didn't need to be a military genius to understand the importance of surprise.

It didn't take long for the troop to start forward. Gamelin only paid marginal attention to where he was putting his feet, mostly scanning to the front. They had nearly reached the flats along the river when Gamelin saw a flash of light from something shiny, about a mile beyond the river.

He halted the column and quickly scrawled a quick drawing on a sheet of paper that he carried in his pocket. Another of the High King's inventions, like so many others. Paper, the pistols and carbines they carried, their swords, half a dozen refinements in saddles and other equipment were his inventions, too.

Even the cautious approach was one of Lord Kalvan's normal ways of doing things that had been uncommon before his advent. In the old days, a young officer in Gamelin’s position would most likely have led a charge all the way to the river, arriving with exhausted horses, exhausted men and no surprise. Not to mention, a river yet to cross.

Several of the men had seen the flash as well, and there was a quiet murmur behind Gamelin as they started moving forward again, towards the river. They too knew what could be out here and the thought of riding into a trap was on everyone’s minds.

They hadn’t gone far before Gamelin again had to halt the column. Now there was a towering plume of dust from near where he’d seen the flash earlier. Sergeant Vosper came up next to him, also straining to see. On the plain here, it was difficult, however.

“A dozen horses, I’d say,” the sergeant opined. They watched in silence for a heartbeat. “They are moving very fast.” The older sergeant turned to the young officer.

“The locals don’t have armor and they wouldn’t have that many horses.” The sergeant waved at the plume of dust. “When they hunt, it’s usually one or two, at most, and always on foot. They never gallop their horses.”

Or, Gamelin translated, this was not good. “We don’t have any other patrols out?” He’d been told there weren’t, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.

“Not this far south,” the sergeant told him.

“Move out!” Gamelin commanded and the patrol started forward again.

Another half palm width and they were at the Wen-rotos River ford, where the scouts and point guards were waiting for them. Everyone checked their weapons again and then the two scouts and the four point men crossed the river, the rest in position to cover them.

Nothing happened. The scouts vanished into the brush, and the point men moved a few paces away from the water and took up covering positions.

“Okay men, first section crosses with Sergeant Vosper. When you’re safely over and in covering positions, the rest of us will cross.” River crossings were good places to ambush someone; one couldn't be too careful. Of course, you still had to cross the river.

The caution seemed to be misplaced. There was no ambush. The whole troop formed up again and Gamelin passed the word to recheck priming after the crossing. Everyone was nervous and most had already checked, but it always was a good idea to show the men you hadn't forgotten the simple things. When you got rattled, you forgot everything.

Maybe it had been a party of hunters, despite what Vosper said. At home, Gamelin had hunted with groups far larger, even, than this patrol. The area around them teemed with large deer and small animals that looked like wild boars, but had hooves like an antelope. But you don't grow old in the service of Galzar Wolf’s Head, the Soldier’s God, making assumptions that your enemies were far away.

They moved a few hundred paces away from the river, up the first big rise. Still nothing.

The scout suddenly appeared a few paces distant, at the edge of some brush. Gamelin could tell that something was exciting the scout.

"Lord, sorcery!" the short man hissed, none too quietly.

"Oh, Great Galzar!" Gamelin said under his breath. Just what his troopers needed to hear!

"How many sorcerers, scout?" he asked in his most pompous manner. He could feel the icy chill from his men.

You heard a lot about sorcery, but few people ever encountered it, unless you counted the High King. High King Kalvan always explained that what he did was, "Simple mechanic arts, something that anyone can do with learning." Maybe so, but the question had always remained, where had he learned? No educated man admitted to taking sorcery seriously, but there were a whole lot of dead men who had opposed the High King, and the living spoke to him on bended knee. The High King had learned something, somewhere.

The scout shook his head. "They have fled at your approach, Lord."

Gamelin chuckled dryly, echoed nervously by a few of the troopers. "Not much of a sorcerer, if he can't handle the likes of us!" he exclaimed.

The scout shook his head. "Come, Lord, see for yourself."

They moved another couple hundred paces. Abruptly Gamelin pulled Hellfire up short. Ahead was something unlike anything he had ever seen or imagined. It was some sort of metal wagon, sitting on four wheels. A wagon perhaps, but certainly something a sorcerer would ride!

Gamelin dismounted from Hellfire and handed the reins to the nearest trooper. He drew one of his pistols and walked carefully towards it. The scouts appeared and stood off a little to one side, watching him. The hush from Gamelin’s troopers he found slightly unnerving.

Gamelin walked around the metal wagon at what he thought was a safe distance and looked it over. It was the color of sand and had four black wheels, one at each corner. Cabalistic signs decorated what seemed to be doors. It was all enclosed in glass and metal. There were windows and he could see seats inside.

He leaned down and picked up a small rock and lobbed it gently at the sorcerer's wagon. There was a metallic clank and the rock fell normally to the ground, leaving a dusty mark on the metal. Gamelin stretched out his hand and touched the metal surface lightly, quickly. Nothing. It was smooth, cool, and metallic feeling. He rapped the metal solidly with his knuckles. It wasn’t very thick. It sounded like steel, but very thin. The glass in the windows was the best he'd ever seen in his life. Clear and even, no waviness at all. How had it been formed in curves?

Whoever had done the metal work had been a true master. There were no traces of hammer marks. Even if the paint would hide most small errors, it could not cover them all. There were what looked like handholds on the outside of the strangely marked doors. He took hold of one of these and tugged, trying to open it. Nothing happened. There was like a little button-like thing about where his thumb went as he tried to open the door, so he tried pushing it inwards.

It pushed in and the door swung open. There was an audible sigh of relief from the watchers when nothing untoward happened. From close up, Gamelin was aware of a wash of hot air from inside. It was very hot inside of the conveyance, much hotter than outside. He remembered, belatedly, that glass did that. It trapped the essence of sunlight that was the heat and held it in a room. He'd heard that in one of the Academy classes for young officers.

He looked inside and saw little beyond some seats and a few piles of goods at the rear. Small piles. For the first time he noticed some hand-written lettering on the front window, scribed in some sort of reddish paint. The letters were unfamiliar and meaningless, but he recognized some numbers. They were the same numbers that the High King taught to all men; numbers that only the High King had known, to begin with.

Gamelin backed away and called up the scouts. "Okay, how many were there? Where and when did they go?"

The head scout bobbed his head in respect at Gamelin’s courage. "It is very strange. There is one man. He wears fine boots and walks around a lot. The rest are women. Maybe five or six. Young girls, we think. Some wear boots, others some kind of soft shoe." The scout pointed towards the south. "They left that way on foot, not a palm width ago. We think they saw us coming and have fled."

Gamelin nodded. "Why on foot? Did their horses run off?"

The two scouts looked at each other, then back at Gamelin. "Lord, they had no horses."

"Eh?" Gamelin exclaimed, surprised. "No horses?" The Lost Ruthani could survive in the desert without horses; Hostigi soldiers tended to die unpleasantly if they were set afoot here.

Gamelin examined the sorcerer's wagon again. He mentally kicked himself. There was no obvious place to hitch draft animals of any sort. What provided the motive power? The wagon wasn't very large, compared to what one normally saw in wagons. Yet it could evidently carry six or seven people and equipment. Without horses? He peered inside. The seats of the conveyance made it clear. Two in front, two in the next rank and three more in the back. There was room for some cargo in the rear; it was more like a carriage than a wagon. And there wasn’t very much stowage. What kind of wagon was this, then?

The head scout spoke up, "I think the man is a sorcerer, perhaps an evil slaver of women. I think he is taking young girls he has captured in the East to the Western Ocean in his magic wagon."

The Zarthani still held slaves, Gamelin knew and of course, so did the Mexicotál. Why else would a man be alone out here with so many women? What should Gamelin do? There were not a few stories told of young women who vanished from the lands of the High King and found their way into slavery in the West. What the Mexicotál did to their slaves passed belief and imagination; it revolted all but the strongest stomachs and drove temperate men to intemperate rage.

Gamelin felt his stomach roil; he had a vile taste in his mouth. Duty was one thing, but this was something one could take great pride and pleasure in as well!

If he left someone here to watch the sorcerer's wagon, even if there was no magic left, it was an odds-on bet they would lose their nerve and take off. Militia, called up for the three summer moons every other year weren't all that reliable. In an unknown situation like this, even regulars would not be very trustworthy. He had himself, a regular sergeant, a militia sergeant, a regular corporal and a militia corporal. He needed them all himself. He looked one last time at the sorcerer's wagon. If the magic was still there, it was dangerous; if not, it would still be here when he returned. 

"Sergeant Vosper, mount the troop. We'll pursue the sorcerer and rescue the women, if they are indeed being held against their will."

The High King took a very dim view of slaves. A very dim view. So did Gamelin. "Six men on point, they'll stay a hundred paces in front, well spread out. The rest, column of twos. And flash the party on the hill 3-1-3, and send that we are moving south on this side of the river.” Everyone who had dismounted swung up, and in a moment they were moving at a trot.

Every couple of hundred yards a scout would pop up and wave them on along the trail, and they would continue to move quickly. Then the scout would vanish and another would reappear a few moments later. One of the point men dropped back briefly, after about a mile.

"Lord Gamelin, the scouts says that they are on foot, but not moving very fast. He thinks they mean to hole up in some rocks near the river about a mile from here." Gamelin waved him forward and the other resumed his place.

Interesting. The scouts knew of the rock pile, and so must the sorcerer. If the other was familiar with the terrain, Gamelin had better redouble caution.

Gamelin held up his arm for the column to halt. "The scouts think they have gone to ground a little ways ahead. We'll advance as skirmishers. If anyone fires before I give the word, I'll kill him myself, assuming Sergeant Vosper hasn't already done it."

The High King, Gamelin, and the senior sergeant, Vosper, were all big on fire discipline. It was all there in the High King’s Field Regulations, read to the men every full moon.

The troopers laughed nervously, but all knew what Gamelin said was true. If you fired without orders, you could expect to be flogged, at the very least. If you hurt someone you weren't supposed to, maybe you would live long enough to be hanged. The High King was fair, but he didn't like stupid mistakes. Not when you should know better! His own wife had shot him once, by accident!

The double column of horsemen split into a line abreast. Gamelin watched carefully as they made the move. The troopers were getting better all the time. The prospect of this being real concentrated their attention considerably. Once they were ready, Gamelin held up his hand, and then waved them forward.

They advanced a couple of hundred paces at a slow walk. The scout appeared, moving along at Hellfire's pace, at Gamelin’s side. "Lord, they are in the rocks, there." The scout pointed at a rock pile a good five hundred paces away.

Sorcerer or not, the man was no fool. There was a deep ravine on one side and then open ground for a couple of hundred yards before the broken ground near the rocks. If Gamelin wanted, he could simply order a charge, accept the two or three casualties that he would take and be done with it. There was no way he could order his troopers to charge in there and get shot at without being able to return fire.

With two dozen militia troopers shooting, there would be lead flying everywhere. He would gain little thanks for rescuing half the captives, having shot the rest. The High King was rough on soldiers who did something stupid; for stupid officers he reserved special penalties. Unpleasant penalties.

There was a smaller gully about halfway to the rocks, the sorcerer could not shoot at them in there without exposing himself. Another consideration: what if the scouts were wrong and there were more than one armed enemy awaiting them in the rocks? Rash actions, without thinking, could get men killed.

And of course, there was always the chance, no matter how faint, that this was a legitimate traveler who had stumbled upon the sorcerer's wagon or whatever it was, just as he had. The High King thought well of traders and would not take kindly to an accident.

"Pass the word," Gamelin called to the men on either side of him. "Advance as skirmishers, at the walk. Pull up when we get to that little fold halfway there. We'll dismount and see if we can end this without shooting. If there is any shooting, get to the fold and take cover. Do not fire. Repeat, no firing."

The word was passed down the line, and the two corporals, one at either wing, raised their arms signifying that they were ready.

Gamelin turned to Sergeant Vosper next to him. "Unfurl the banner of the High King.” The banner was swirled, revealing the halberd head of Hostigos, with the High King’s Golden Sun Rising, next to it.

Sergeant Vosper reported that all was ready.

"Forward!" Gamelin commanded loudly and off they went.

There were no shots while they were crossing the open space, but when they went down into the fold, out of sight, there was one loud shot from the rocks that echoed around the hills. Gamelin dismounted and carefully made his way to where he could peek over the top of the fold and see if he could see anything. He couldn't, so he stood a little higher. This brought a hiss of disapproval from Sergeant Vosper who reminded Gamelin that he was within easy rifle shot of the rocks.

Gamelin cupped his hands and shouted towards the pile. "You there! Surrender in the name of High King Kalvan, Lord of us all! If you come forth peaceably, you will be treated fairly, in accordance with the High King's laws!"

The reply was in a language that Gamelin had never heard before.

Gamelin called to one of the scouts. "Did you understand him?"

The scout shook his head. The gods were not smiling on Gamelin today!

He weighed the idea of a charge, once again. As if reading his mind, there was a sudden volley of shots. One after another, six shots shattered the early afternoon, far faster than any single man could reload and fire, too slow for volley fire. What?

Gods! Everyone knew the story of High King Kalvan's pistol! It too had fired six times as fast as he could pull the trigger. Lord Kalvan still hadn't duplicated it, “simple” mechanic arts or not! Perhaps this sorcerer was from the High King's homeland? Could this be the evil sorcerer that had banished the High King from that homeland and kept him from his patrimony? This sorcerer seemed better equipped than the High King had been. What if there was more than one pistol that fired six shots? What if the women had pistols and the desire to use them? The loud bang had certainly come from a heavier weapon. What if all of them had pistols and rifles? Styphon's Hells! He could lose his whole command!

Another consideration: the High King had been shot by accident by his later-to-be wife and High Queen, Rylla, because she did not recognize him as a friend when they were in a battle. Gamelin had no desire to make a similar mistake. The High King's hallmark was his willingness to talk, to compromise, to avoid the unnecessary spilling of blood.

Of course, the High King was willing to wade to his bootstraps in blood, if someone really wanted a fight. This sorcerer had also showed his unwillingness to shed blood. The shots so far had been warnings, shots that told Gamelin something of what he faced, something the other did not have to do.

Sergeant Vosper crawled up next to Gamelin. "Lord Gamelin, I can’t see any smoke from his weapons. My brother fought alongside the High King when he took Tarr-Dombra. Lord Kalvan's pistol didn't shoot smoke either."

Gamelin nodded. Great Galzar! By the Twelve True Gods, it could be! Caution! Caution!

"Sergeant, I'm going out there and try to talk to him. Make double damn sure no one shoots. But, if there is any sign of treachery, open fire. Don't worry about me, just make sure you kill him."

The sergeant nodded grimly. He understood enough of the situation to realize that there really wasn't much choice for Gamelin. Only caution and patience. And it was Gamelin's job to take the risk. It wasn't something an officer could or should delegate. Vosper was deeply impressed by the young officer, in a situation that defied the experience of anyone, including veteran sergeants. And when experience was no help, there was only training and instinct. Gamelin showed considerable poise and ability for one so young. There wasn’t anything wrong with his instincts, either!

"Be careful, Lord Gamelin," the sergeant said softly.

Gamelin nodded absently, busy with his preparations. Finally, Gamelin stood, climbed over the edge of the ravine, and walked forward, his palms spread and facing forwards. Ahead of him, he could see movement in the rocks.


	4. This Isn't Fun

I

Tuck pulled a pair of binoculars from the seat pocket of the van and then clambered up on the roof, before putting the binoculars to his eyes.

Judy watched him for a second and then shaded her eyes to look at the dust herself. It was too far away to see much beyond that it was slowly moving towards them.

Tuck hopped lithely down, and then stood looking at them for a long second. “Okay ladies, time to go. Get in the van.”

“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Flowers asked.

“I think so. They look like the men we saw yesterday afternoon.”

Judy shivered. She hadn’t liked what she’d seen, even if she hadn’t seen much inside the rainbow waterfall.

Everyone scrambled for their seats from yesterday and in a minute they were going relatively quickly over the desert, leaving a tall plume of dust behind them. After a bit, though, they slowed, and then finally stopped.

“There’s a spot a short distance from here that I know. We used to play hide and seek in a large rock pile when I was a kid; we drove our parents crazy because they were afraid we’d find snakes.” He smiled at them. “We never saw any snakes, but that was then and this is now. Be careful. Bring your personal gear with you when we move over there.

“The rocks run all the way down to the Verde River. I want you to find a spot close to the water where you can drop your things, and then be ready to follow instructions.”

“What are you going to do?” Judy asked, worried.

Tuck turned to her. “I’m going to be careful. I want all of you to be, too. I want to see what we’ve got here, in as controlled a fashion as possible.” He gestured outside the van. “Now please, gather your gear and start moving. There’s a wash about halfway to the rocks, be careful as it is steep. Take your time, we have lots of it.”

Judy gathered her backpack, and then helped Lydia get hers on too.

“Should I bring my guitar?” Lydia asked Tuck.

He grinned and nodded.

It wasn’t nearly as easy to get where Tuck wanted them to go as it looked. Judy had to take Sarah’s sleeping bag–Sarah’s arms had all but given out. Elspeth though, sniffed in derision when Mrs. Flowers asked her to carry her sleeping bag.

It was cool inside the rocks, surprisingly so. Tuck had pointed the way and Judy had led the others deeper into the mass of boulders. The rock pile was like what you would get if someone dropped house-sized boulders in a jumble. It was about several hundred feet tall, and was a warren of tunnels and chambers, some large, some very small. There were hundreds of passages going every which way, but most were short, coming to dead ends. 

Tuck seemed to know the way and he quickly led them through until they were about ten yards from the river, with a flat sandy area between them and the rushing water. Everyone else dropped their packs with a sigh, while Judy simply slid hers off and left it propped against a rock.

Tuck was gone without a word before Judy finished turning around. Judy contemplated what to do. It was Mrs. Flowers sitting wearily on a rock, saying and doing nothing, that decided her.

“I’m going to check out what’s going on. Everyone stay here,” Judy announced to the others.

To Judy’s surprise, the woman nodded. Mrs. Flower’s face was pale, but had a tinge of hot red on her face. She’s sunburned, Judy thought. Further, Mrs. Flowers was puffing badly, obviously exhausted.

She had to be exhausted to let a thirteen-year-old boss her around. Judy shook her head, but kept her eyes open as she moved back towards where they’d entered the rocks. The path wasn’t nearly as maze-like as Judy remembered and the dried mud and swirls of sand on the ground made it simple to follow their footsteps.

Judy found Tuck lying on a rock in the shade, a short-barreled carbine leaning against a rock, close to his hand. He eyed her and then shook his head.

“This could go south here, real fast.” He waved out into the late morning sun. “They are approaching slowly. How long they will be cautious, I can only speculate. It would be a really good idea, Judy, if you would get back a ways. A bullet is bad enough, but with all these rocks there will be a lot of ricochets. Those are beyond bad.”

“You shouldn’t be here by yourself,” she told him.

He chuckled. “I agree. I’d like to have my forward air controller over to my right, my artillery liaison just to my left and a company of South Vietnamese rangers backing me up. With a few Phantoms and Skyraiders, some organic artillery, even a few mortars–this would be a piece of cake. Yep, with a little help like that, this would be a cakewalk.”

Tuck turned back to looking outside. “Except, we have to play the hand we were dealt. Which means, you need to keep your head down.”

“Why did you trust me last night?” Judy asked the question that had burned inside her, for half a day.

“I needed the rest.” He waved outside again. “In case of something like this, it would be better if I was fresh. You would either stay awake or fall asleep. If you stayed awake, you’d be alert or not. There could be some kind of danger or not. Not the best odds I’ve had on my side, but given the situation, the best I could expect.” He grinned at her. “You did good.”

In the distance, Judy could see a line of mounted men moving at a walk towards them.

“Scoot now, get back,” he told her, putting the binoculars to his eyes.

Judy took another look at the men. There were a couple of dozen of them, dressed similarly to the ones she’d seen the day before for the brief moment they’d been in whatever it had been that they were in. These men, though, seemed to be carrying shorter firearms and there were more of them than she remembered from the rainbow waterfall of light.

Judy took a couple of steps back, deeper into the shadows. She looked around and saw a gleam of sunlight a short distance away, at an angle from where she’d just come from. She moved towards it, climbing up a short slope. She could tell she’d be able to see, so she stretched out full length on the rock, then moved closer to the shadow’s edge, putting just her eyes above the rocks, but still back in the shadow.

She looked out, able to see well enough. The men had stopped about two hundred yards away and she could faintly hear commands being passed. It was too far to make out the words, but Judy was sure that one of the men in the middle was the one who gave them. He was on a larger horse than the others and seemed to sit more erect on his horse.

Sure enough, after a moment, a banner was unfurled by the man next to the one Judy thought was the leader. The man who bore the banner swirled it. The banner contained a green device on a red background, next to a golden sunburst. An axe with a point, Judy thought. What either the axe or the sunburst meant, she had no idea.

Her attention was drawn back to the leader when he raised his right arm straight up, held it still for a second and then dropped it horizontal, pointing straight for them. Judy sighed and closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them again. The men were now riding slowly forwards. She kicked herself for being so stupid. This wasn’t good, but there was no shooting. Not yet. Time to duck once it started, but far more important was paying attention.

The mounted men reached the small ravine and dipped out of sight. After a few seconds, Judy realized that they hadn’t continued straight on, they had stopped out of sight. It seemed Tuck realized that too, and from off to her right, there was a single rifle shot.

Judy didn’t see anything that Tuck could be shooting at. She decided that he had probably fired a warning shot. She nodded to herself. That didn’t prepare her though, for when Tuck emptied his pistol. Six shots, one after another right on the heels of each other.

Why did he do that? Judy stared out over the ground between her and the ravine. Because there are a whole bunch of them. He’s trying to make them think twice about coming on. There was a movement ahead and she saw a single man climb up from the ravine, on foot this time. He walked forward, confident and alone. He was their leader, Judy recognized.

Judy moved back, quickly returning to where Tuck was. He looked at her and shook his head, a faint smile. “Well, it’s down to hard choices.”

The man stopped halfway to them, shouted something.

“That doesn’t sound like anything I know,” Tuck said with frustration. “How about you?”

Judy shook her head. “I know a little Italian. That wasn’t it. I don’t think it was Spanish, either.”

“No, it wasn’t Spanish,” Tuck agreed.

Tuck cupped his hand to his mouth. “Parlez vous Francais? Sprechen sie Deutsch?” His shout was as loud as the other man’s. It was easy to see the man shake his head.

“Well,” Tuck said shaking his head, “like I said. Hard choices. Stay here and keep out of sight. If anything happens to me, you turn right around and run like the wind to the others. Try to swim the river. Stay together, head for rough ground where horses can’t go, try to keep some of your gear, but don’t take any chances with the river. Hide what you can’t carry. Be careful!”

With that, he undid his holster and set it on the rocks, and then put his rifle down as well. Judy was unprepared for Tuck to stare long and hard at her. “I don’t suppose I could have the loan of your purse?” he asked.

Judy looked down and frowned. Her purse was like part of her, unconsciously and unthinkingly brought along wherever she went.

Tuck waved at the lone man, standing still in the sun a hundred yards away. “He’s got a little pouch. I can get away with one, too.” Judy hastily emptied her purse out, while Tuck delved into his pack, a few feet away. He pulled out a pint-sized silvery flask. Judy grinned at him.

“Ah, I know, a filthy habit.” He laughed. “At least I don’t smoke.” He put the pistol and the flask in her purse and slung it over his shoulder.

“Good luck,” Judy whispered as he started forward.

Tuck didn’t look back. Instead, he walked out, his hands away from his body, palms out.

It took forever. The two men stood talking to each other, out in the sun. The most common gesture was a head shake or a helpless shrug of the shoulders. Both men did it rather often.

Finally Tuck turned around and called out to her. “They speak something like a cross between German and Greek. I know about a hundred words of German from high school and about two words of Greek. Be patient and don’t do anything. Stay down.”

Judy nodded, but it was to herself. A few minutes later two of the other men appeared, carrying a bundle between them, followed by a third man. The last man stood empty handed, Judy noted, watching the proceedings.

The other two men worked for a few minutes and Judy smiled. Ah! A canvas fly! Something to keep the sun off Tuck and the other men’s leader as they talked!

There was a scratch of gravel and Elspeth appeared. Elspeth glanced at the tableau. “What’s going on?”

“Tuck’s talking to them. He says they speak something like a combination of German and Greek. Do you know either of them?”

Elspeth snorted. When Judy didn’t respond, Elspeth said one word: “And?”

“And, they’re talking. A bit ago, a couple of them brought out that fly, then went back to the ravine.”

Elspeth frowned and looked at where the men were talking. “Fly?”

“The canvas thing, keeping the sun off them. We used to have one when we went camping. It creates a little bit of shade.”

“That Mrs. Flowers is starting to get the wind up,” Elspeth said practically.

“Tell her that Tuck is dealing with it.”

“She got really exercised at the shooting,” Elspeth said. It sounded like Elspeth hadn’t gotten exercised or the wind up about it, though.

“Tuck was sending a message,” Judy told her. “Proof is in the pudding.”

“Whatever,” Elspeth said. “So, nothing is likely to happen for a while?”

“I don’t know,” Judy explained. “I just don’t know. Why don’t you go back and tell the others what’s going on? I’ll let you know if there’s any change.”

Elspeth looked at her oddly for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Right. No problem. Stay calm, nothing’s happening, ignore the gunfire.”

Elspeth vanished back into the rocks and Judy shook her head. She had this feeling that Elspeth was older than she was. Not a lot, she thought, she thought Elspeth was in high school. So what if she is older? So was Mrs. Flowers! 

About a half hour later the two men stood. There was no handshake, but they weren’t throwing punches either. Then Tuck dipped into her purse and took out the silver flask. He took a drink, offered it to the other man, who also took a drink. Then the stranger lifted the flask to Tuck; it seemed to Judy that it was obviously a toast or sealing some sort of deal.

Tuck turned to face where Judy was watching from and called to her. “Go get the others. Leave all of the gear for now, just come out. Come slowly, hands away from your body.”

Judy called out, “We’ll be there!”

She moved quickly through the rocks, taking Tuck’s rifle with her. The others were sitting or lying on the ground, in the usual groups. Becky and Lydia, Mrs. Flowers and Sarah, Elspeth, as usual, off by herself.

“Tuck wants us to come. Leave your things here. When we get out of the rocks, walk slowly forward, keep your hands away from your body.”

“Oh, like this?” Elspeth said sarcastically, raising her arms like they do on TV when you’re under arrest.

“No, like this.” Judy mimicked the way Tuck had held his hands when he’d gone out. “Come on.”

Becky and Lydia got up and started forward. Elspeth joined them. Judy stared at Mrs. Flowers, who finally got up. Judy turned her back on the woman, following the first three, not really sure if Mrs. Flowers or Sarah would come along. But, after a second she could hear them.

When they got back to the sunlight, Judy stopped, a little surprised. All of the other men were visible now, a crescent, centered on Tuck and their leader. They had their weapons in their hands, but the barrels were across their chests, the muzzles pointed at the sky.

Tuck called to them. “Come on out, please.”

Judy let the rest of the girls and Mrs. Flowers go ahead of her. She’d taken about two steps when she heard a barked command and heard a rattle of sound. She’d been paying more attention to where her feet were on the rocky ground; now she saw twenty men with guns, every last gun aimed at her.

“Judy,” Tuck spoke, his voice calm, “take your finger away from the trigger. Wrap your hand around the small of the stock. You understand? Carry the rifle across your body like they are.” He smiled slightly. “You’re making them nervous.”

Judy did as she was told, trying hard not to blush from embarrassment.

Finally, Judy and the others were lined up, a smaller version of the formation the men facing them were in.

Judy could see the leader of the men clearly now. He was young, perhaps only twenty, but maybe a little younger. He was about an inch shorter than Judy, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. What had Tuck said about them speaking something like German?

Tuck reached out and took the rifle from her, holding it one-handed, placing it on top of Judy’s purse, sitting in the dirt. There were lines drawn in the sand. Judy smiled slightly at that, and then she kicked herself. Maps. Those were maps! Maps were important! Particularly when there was some question as to where you are!

The young leader thumped his chest. “ _Leit Gamelin_. _Diener Hos-Eh Kalvan._ ” He pointed to Mrs. Flowers. “ _Spick Nohm_.”

“What’s he want?” Mrs. Flowers asked.

Judy wanted to roll her eyes. Your name, dummy!

“This is Gamelin, I think Leit is a rank. He serves someone called Kalvan. He wants to know your name,” Tuck told her.

“Mary Flowers,” Mrs. Flowers said.

Gamelin pointed at Judy. “Nohm!”

“Judy Bondi.”

It rolled off steadily after that, until Lydia gave her name, standing at the end of the line.

Gamelin walked to stand in front of Lydia. He gestured at Lydia’s long sleeves. Lydia seemed to pick up on what he wanted and pushed her sleeves up. The man gave a grunt, then pointed at Lydia’s feet.

After a second of confusion, Lydia looked at Tuck. “What does he want?”

“He wants to see if your socks match,” Tuck said with a straight face, his voice level.

Judy couldn’t stop her laugh, neither could Becky. Lydia just tugged on her jeans leg, lifting it up.

Finally, everyone had lifted their pants legs and showing their bare wrists.

“Is there a purpose, Mr. Tucker, for this charade?” Mrs. Flowers asked, her voice nasty.

“They don’t like slavery. He’s checking for chain marks.”

Again Tuck’s voice was level and uninflected. But this time, none of them laughed. 

Mrs. Flowers though, did have a response. “I don’t understand.”

“They think I kidnapped the bunch of you and that I’m hauling you into bondage. That I’m going to make slaves of you.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Mrs. Flowers said, shaking her head. “There aren’t any slaves any more! And we’re white.”

“There are no slaves where we come from,” Tuck agreed. Then he turned to Judy.

“Judy, in a second I’m going to face all of you. Raise your hand and I’ll point to you. Ask a simple question; make it clear you’re asking a question. A lot of the intonations in their language are like ours. I’ll give an answer. A couple of the rest of you raise your hands and I’ll point to one of you, then you ask me a question. A pantomime of teachers and students.”

Tuck turned to Gamelin, and then tapped himself on the chest. He walked a few steps away from Gamelin and faced the girls.

Judy promptly raised her hand. “Tuck.”

“Judy.”

“What’s the name of the river over there?” Judy pointed towards the river.

“It’s called the Verde River. Green River. These people call it the Wen-rotos.”

Becky and Lydia both raised their hands, so did Elspeth. Tuck pointed at Elspeth.

Elspeth pointed at a cholla cactus. “That’s a jumping cactus, right? Why?”

“It has long pale thorns and the little segments break off easily. It’s easy to brush against one and not notice at first. Then you think it jumped at you, when you find it sticking to you, but you have moved several steps from where you actually picked it up.”

II

Gamelin watched Tuck listen to questions and answer them before he turned to Sergeant Vosper. “I think the man is a teacher.”

Vosper’s eyes stayed fixed on Tuck. “Not a very manly thing, being a teacher to girls. The tall one is brave enough and he trusts her with the carbine. The woman is...” Vosper shook his head. “I think she is a fool.”

Vosper gestured with his chin towards Tuck. “Did he say where they came from? Teacher or not, there’s his wagon. And it is sorcerous!”

“He kept saying he came from here. We drew maps. He knows about the rivers; he knows about the Western Ocean, about the Eastern Ocean. He knows the shape of the Mexicotál lands in the south. He even says he knows the shape of the southern lands, south of the Mexicotál.”

“Did he claim to come from the Winter Kingdom, as does the High King?”

“No, I pointed to it and he spoke a name. He didn’t claim to be from there. He claims to be from here, he kept putting his finger down on the map where we are. Then he shakes his head.”

Vosper looked over the women again, before returning his gaze to Tuck. “What should we do, Lord Gamelin?”

Gamelin grimaced, much preferring to be a lieutenant. His eyes too fell on Tuck, who was watching both Gamelin and Vosper. “Vosper, I am Lieutenant Gamelin. My father might be a count, but as another count has made quite clear, here I am just a junior officer of the High King.

“We will ride down to the river and make camp. I need to think about this.”

“We haven’t covered very much ground today,” Vosper said neutrally.

“Send Trooper Hestius south, to Mogdai. Give Hestius a couple of gold Kalvans. Tell him to fetch a dozen horses and meet us back here tomorrow by noon.”

Vosper bobbed his head. “We won’t be able to travel very fast with so many women.” Vosper cast his eye over the small group of girls. “If they are used to riding in a sorcerer’s wagon, I wonder how well they will fare on horses?”

“We’ll find out,” Gamelin told him. “Now, get Hestius going. He has a ways to travel.”

Gamelin turned and motioned to Tuck, who came over without demur.

Gamelin had grown up, at least for his early years, in the old order. There, nobles of the land commanded and all obeyed. Unless, of course, you were a priest of Styphon, in which case Great Kings, kings, princes and all the nobles of the land obeyed you.

In the old order there were nobles, there were merchants and churchmen, mercenaries, commoners, serfs and slaves. You could tell who was who, just by looking at them, listening to the way they spoke, the way they dressed, and the way they acted.

Tuck carried himself like Gamelin wished he could carry himself. He carried himself the way Gamelin’s father carried himself; the way Count Errock carried himself. The calm confidence of command and authority. Moreover, Tuck had walked forward alone and unarmed against two dozen armed men, all possible foes. A brave thing, very brave.

And the women. True, the older woman acted the fool. But was she? Gamelin eyed her, decided that it would be safer to assume she wasn’t. But the others? You could judge people by how they acted: these were the daughters of noblemen. You could tell. While nervous and a little afraid, they met your eye when you stood in front of them. What person wouldn’t be nervous and afraid, facing armed men? But nobles knew command; so did their sons and daughters. They would look you in the eyes, as these had done.

So perhaps Tuck was more than just a teacher. Perhaps a bodyguard to the daughters of nobles? There was nothing unmanly about that!

Gamelin walked over to the tall girl, the one Tuck had trusted with his carbine. The girl eyed him warily, but didn’t flinch or look away. Her hair was as dark as the locals here, but her skin, while dark too, was a different shade, like someone who’d been heavily tanned. It was uncommon seeing a woman taller than he was.

“Pfard,” Gamelin said, pointing to one of the horses. “Zee rit Pfard?”

The girl held up two fingers, about an inch apart. “A bit,” she said.

“Judybondi?” Gamelin asked.

“Judy,” the girl confirmed. “Bondi pater nohm.”

Pater? Gamelin racked his brain wondering what that meant.

Behind him, Tuck said quietly, “Vater.”

“Phadros!” Gamelin exclaimed, understanding. Father. Gamelin pointed at the woman. “Madros!” and pointed to the girl he was certain was her daughter. “Dottar!”

It didn’t take too long for the concept of mother and father, son and daughter to be conveyed. Tuck understood easily, the tall girl understood easily, a few of the others were struggling to understand. The woman? She cared not. And her daughter? The daughter stared at Gamelin’s troopers, obviously trembling. But not the trembling of a maiden seeing a man, but that of a mouse, seeing a cat.

And, Gamelin had learned that Tuck, Judybondi and two of the others could ride a little, while the rest could not.

Tuck had made it clear that his sorcerer’s wagon rolled on the ground. That without a road, it was unable to travel across the desert. It all made Gamelin’s head ache. Maybe Tuck and these others had been caught as the High King had been, abducted by an enemy sorcerer, hurled to some distant land with no hope of return.

Judybondi went to gather up the things she’d put down earlier and just to see what would happen, Gamelin reached for the carbine Judybondi had picked up. She glanced at Tuck, who nodded and only then did she give Gamelin the weapon. Tuck said something, pointing at a small lever. Gamelin had no idea what the other meant, although he was curious to find out.

Tuck gestured for the rifle, and Gamelin returned it to him. Tuck pointed it into the air, and tugged on the trigger. Nothing happened. Tuck gestured for Gamelin to try it, so he did. He could feel that something was keeping the trigger from moving. Tuck pushed the lever and then pretended to pull the trigger. “Boom!” Tuck said.

Gamelin traded looks with Vosper. How many times had troopers fired by mistake? Such a device would be of particularly good use, a clever idea. Of course, then the troopers would have to have the brains to unlock the trigger in a fight. Gamelin had seen more than one man after a fight find out that his rifle was literally full; the man had reloaded, then reloaded again, until the rifle was filled with unfired powder and shot. And those had been his father’s men, trusted and experienced retainers.

Tuck took out his pistol and Gamelin held up six fingers, and pointed at it, saying, “Boom! Boom!” over and over again.

Tuck nodded, and did something to the pistol, spilling small objects into the palm of his hand. He handed one to Gamelin, and then one to Vosper.

The tip looked like the same lead that the High King’s rifles shot, the bottom portion looked like bronze. Tuck did something with his rifle, and caught another small object, the same as he’d shown Gamelin and Vosper. Tuck flipped it in the air, then slid the object into his pistol, took its like from Vosper and put it in the rifle.

Vosper nodded. “Same size for pistol and rifle–just as the High King has taught.”

Gamelin nodded, but was curious when Tuck handed him Tuck’s rifle. Gamelin looked it over, and shrugged, handing it to Vosper. Vosper shrugged too and handed it back to Tuck. It was clear, Gamelin thought, that Tuck was perplexed.

Suddenly Tuck gave a little laugh, and then did something with the rifle, taking a small metal piece from the bottom, then handed the piece to Gamelin. Gamelin looked, then blinked. There, nestled inside, were quite a few of the things that the rifle and pistol shot.  
                  Gamelin lifted his head and looked at Tuck. Tuck held up six fingers, pointing at the pistol. Gamelin nodded. Then Tuck held up ten fingers for the rifle.

Ten shots!

Gamelin grimaced. Had he ordered the attack, it would have been Galzar’s own miracle had the attack succeeded. And if it had, it would have cost like Styphon’s devils!

To cover his discomfort, Gamelin turned to Vosper. “Have everything loaded on the horses; see that the strangers’ things are loaded too.”

Vosper sent a half dozen troopers with Judybondi to fetch their things. It made an impressive pile. Then Tuck had added to it from his wagon. The pile went from impressive to a serious impediment to movement. How had the magic wagon carried seven persons and so much else? Without horses?

Later, Gamelin stood next to a dolorous Sergeant Vosper. “It is a good thing, Lieutenant, you sent for so many horses,” the veteran said with a grimace.

Gamelin nodded. “We’ll move down to the river. Tell the scout Tendai that we need a place to spend the night, close to the river.” Gamelin waved to the northwest where towering piles of clouds were lofting into the air. “Close, but not too close.”

Once, when Gamelin had been fourteen he’d been on a major hunt with his father, the count. Gamelin had been a proud young man: proud of his abilities, his weapons and his heritage. He and his father had been standing not far from the edge of one of the Saltless Seas, looking out over the dark waters as night fell.

Behind them they could hear the youngest son of the Count of Morphan screaming at a retainer for something not to the boy’s satisfaction. Gamelin had cast his father a look of smug confidence and his father had laughed. “Gamelin, battle is the truest measure of a man. But, failing that, the next easiest way to judge someone is to subject him to the least discomfort.

“Any man or woman can deal with servants fawning over them, jumping at their beck and call. My son, the same is not true of hardship. A man with a soft mind has a taste for soft living. That,” Gamelin’s father gestured back towards the camp, “is a soft mind in a soft body used to soft living.

“It isn’t proper, Gamelin, to deliberately subject a guest to deprivation. On the other hand, hunting is a fine sport! Known and loved by true men and the True Gods. And its nature is unavoidable.”

Gamelin had smiled at the time, understanding everything his father wished him to. And now, he watched how Tuck and the women with Tuck, dealt with a two mile walk across the desert. Tuck seemed indifferent to discomfort. The tall girl, Judybondi, also showed no sign of what was obviously a painful effort. Elspeth had trouble from the heat and the rocky ground. She wiped her brow, picked herself up when she stumbled and continued on. 

The short one carried something on her back, something she refused to trust to a horse. She too kept on, as best she could. Another of the girls, walked with the small one, helping as she could. Like Judybondi, she walked easily and without appearance of fatigue.

The woman? Gamelin sniffed. She helped no one but herself and that badly. She didn’t even offer to aid her own daughter, she had in fact on a halt asked her daughter for water, having already consumed all of her own.

Gamelin’s troopers made their own judgments. There was nothing he could do about that, but it was clear their opinions followed his.

Tuck had supervised erecting the large shelter for the women. It was obvious who among them had done it before and even tired, they had done their duty to those they were with. It was, Gamelin thought, an education in itself. He had never seen a clearer example of those who served their fellows and those who did not.

Twice, as the afternoon wore on, Gamelin walked the pickets. He couldn’t put a finger on what caused him to be nervous, but he was.

He’d made no issue when Tuck had donned his pistol, worn in a leather pouch on his belt. Gamelin had heard tell of the High King’s weapon and how he carried it. Tuck also had his carbine close to hand at his own shelter, but he only walked the camp with his pistol.

Gamelin was sure that Tuck’s pistol was like the High King’s. It would fire six times as fast as a man could pull the trigger, and didn’t shoot smoke at the same time it fired a bullet. Mostly, Tuck kept close to the women, but now and then he would wander the encampment, looking at what Gamelin’s men were doing.

Once, Tuck had gestured to Gamelin and asked him about the tents of his men. Gamelin had explained, using the poor words they had between them and Tuck nodded, not saying why he’d asked about the canvas pieces each man carried, each piece with buttons on two sides to mate up with button-holes in canvas others carried.

True, they were called _shelter halves_ , but in the desert the troopers buttoned them five by five, creating a vast area of shade, where it was significantly cooler in the center. That's where the soldiers congregated.

Gamelin finally returned to where he’d picketed Hellfire and laid down to rest in the hottest part of the afternoon.

It seemed like he’d barely had his eyes closed, when one of the troopers was shaking him awake. “Lord, Sergeant Vosper calls.”

Gamelin came alert, stood and looked around. The camp was about a hundred yards from the river, and perhaps twenty feet above it. They were near a small patch of grass that was being carefully doled out to the horses to graze, with the men sleeping under cover on river sand, not many feet away.

The trooper pointed and Gamelin headed in the direction he’d been told, in no particular hurry. There had been no urgency in Vosper’s call; the camp wasn’t stirring.

Sergeant Vosper and Judybondi were standing at the base of a large rock, staring at Tuck, standing on top of it. The sergeant was obviously concerned, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Tuck had something attached to his eyes. Obviously more sorcery!

Tuck pulled the black things away, saw Gamelin and gestured to him. “Come!” That was close enough for Gamelin to understand, so he scrambled up the rock.

It was a stiff climb, one that Gamelin’s armor didn’t prove to be the least assistance with. In fact, the armor rather slowed him down. Still, he got up to the top and looked around. It was a good view, particularly to the south. You could see where the Wen-rotos cut south, until it vanished in a gap between two hills, even more distant.

Tuck pointed south, towards the gap the river had cut in the mountains. Gamelin looked again and saw nothing. Finally Tuck took the black objects that hung around his neck and draped them over Gamelin’s neck. Gamelin listened to the explanation, again cursing his lack of ability to understand. On the other hand, the High King had needed most of a moon to be understood. But in that time he’d taught the fireseed secret, and more importantly, taken Tarr-Dombra; as stark a fortress as had existed in those days. Moreover, he'd taken it by storm, something that had never been done before. Gormoth of Nostor had taken Tarr-Dombra from Prince Ptosphes father, but he’d bought it.

It was a far-seeing glass; that was the best name Gamelin could figure to call it. The leather strap around Gamelin’s neck was obviously to keep it handy and to make sure that it did not fall. Tuck mimed how he used it and Gamelin obliged, putting the thing to his eyes.

At first, there was nothing but blue sky; Gamelin wasn’t impressed. Still, Tuck held them firmly, slowly drawing them down. When Gamelin saw, at first his eyes did not comprehend. Then they did, and for a moment he was sure that this thing was, indeed, sorcerous. It looked like the world had been smashed flat. A mountain half way to the horizon looked mashed against one three quarters of the way, and it in turn was mashed against one as far away as a man could see.

But when Gamelin took the far-seeing device down, he could see that the closest ridge wasn’t clearly visible, and could only make out an indistinct shape where the ridge three-quarters of the way to the horizon was and he barely make out the last ridge at all!

Again, Gamelin put them to his eyes, this time drawing them down himself. It took a finger width until he was confident in what he was doing and seeing. Yes, the things you saw in them were oddly flattened; they looked like thin leaves, pressed in a heavy book. Flat, one on top of another. More importantly though, what was far, looked nearer.

The furthest distance, Gamelin decided, looked to be half as far away as it actually was. He’d sensed Tuck’s growing impatience with his slow progress, but he didn’t allow himself to be rushed. Finally, Tuck guided the far-seeing device by moving it with his hand once again, with Gamelin looking through them.

Again, at first Gamelin didn’t understand what he was seeing. Low on the horizon, just where the river met the hills, there was what looked like a thick column of smoke. When Gamelin pulled the far-seeing thing from his eyes, the smoke simply looked like another bush on a distant hillside. It was only when you thought about what you were seeing that it was something to be concerned about. He was looking at a pillar of smoke, perhaps ten or twelve miles distant. A pillar of smoke that was almost certainly from where the village of Mogdai was located. A village of mud brick buildings.

A single house burning could not create that much smoke. A village burning, though, that might do it. A village of mud brick would not burn by itself.

Gamelin spent a few more heartbeats looking at distant hillsides, seeing nothing interesting. When he started to turn the far-seeing device towards the sun, though, Tuck yanked it from his grasp.

Tuck was shaking his head. Gamelin on the other hand was looking at one of the pickets who’d been watching Gamelin and Tuck on top of the rock, along with Sergeant Vosper and Judybondi next to him. All of them intent on what was happening on top of the rock.

Gamelin reached down and picked up a small rock and threw it hard at the picket. The man saw the rock coming and dodged hastily out of the way. “Picket!” Gamelin commanded.

The man blinked, turned and his eyes went to scanning the other side of the river as he was supposed to.

“Vosper, have the men stand to,” Gamelin commanded.


	5. Language Lessons

I

Judy spent the time from when they’d started towards the river, watching and listening. Tuck had to worry about all of them, so she didn’t fault him for spending his time talking to Gamelin. He was obviously trying to learn everything he could. She wanted to do what she could do to help and didn’t want to add even a feather to the burden he had to carry.

Judy faulted Mrs. Flowers for being inert. It was like she’d been turned into spaghetti, limp and unresisting, requiring a push to move even the smallest amount. Even then she moved no more than she absolutely had to.

Judy's friends also seemed to be shell-shocked. The term had never made sense to Judy before, but it did now. Becky and Lydia were more active than Mrs. Flowers, but only just barely. Sarah was even more lethargic than her mother. Only Elspeth seemed able to deal with things. Even then, Elspeth did what Judy told her, without much demur and hardly any resistance. Judy was sure that had things been different, Elspeth would have put up more resistance to doing what a thirteen-year-old told her to do.

They didn’t move far, perhaps two miles, into a clump of cottonwood trees near the river. The soldiers went about tasks that took Judy a while to figure out. The words were strange, the patterns stranger yet. And yet, as she watched, not that strange.

They were setting up a camp; she’d seen that often enough herself. Horses and gear were unpacked, the men had small pieces of canvas that had buttons along two edges, and button holes along the other two. They could be joined together into larger pieces. Right now they had tied a large number of them into a very large canvas fly, providing shade for men and horses.

Judy went to Tuck, who was sitting on a rock talking to Gamelin. “Should we put up our own tents or your big one?” Judy asked him.

Tuck looked around and made a quick decision. “The big one. It’ll be hot in the tent, but it’ll be out of the sun. Water shouldn’t be a problem. Save your own gear for the future.”

Judy nodded and started away, but Tuck bounced up. His big tent had been packed on a horse, and then pulled off when they stopped. Tuck picked it up one-handed again, walked over to Gamelin, Judy still trailing along.

“ _Zohn shutz_ ,” Tuck told Gamelin, hefting the tent bag. “ _Wo_?”

Judy smiled with satisfaction. _Zohn_ was sun. _Wo_ had to be where. _Shutz_? Keep the sun off. She could understand him! She realized the same thing Tuck must have earlier–that having even a few words in common helps enormously to make yourself understood, not to mention gave you confidence that when you learned the language, you’d be able to understand just fine.

Gamelin asked a question of Tuck and at first it was not understood. Finally Gamelin held his arms out, first small, then larger, and then as wide apart as he could. Tuck picked up on it then, and paced three steps, made a right angle turn, paced three more.

Gamelin pointed then to a flat and sandy area, partly shaded by a few straggly trees. Tuck walked that way, Judy turned and waved to Elspeth, waved at the tent, then to Becky and Lydia. Elspeth nodded, moved to get the other two.

“Let’s get the tent up again,” Judy told them.

Tuck put the bag down and opened it.

Judy and Elspeth tugged on the heavy canvas, getting it out. Somewhere along the line Tuck had managed to slip the hammer inside the bag. Elspeth hefted the hammer, and then looked at Tuck, standing to one side, watching them. So too, Judy noted, was Gamelin. In fact, practically everyone in the camp was watching them.

“You’re pretty strong,” Elspeth told Tuck.

Tuck grinned. “You try holding onto a stallion’s snub rope when the vet is running a plastic worming tube down his throat via his nose. Taxing, that’s the word I use. Taxing.”

Judy lifted both eyebrows. Oh! She wouldn’t like that! A stallion? She’d done the horse thing a few years before, as had Becky and Lydia, but they hadn’t even had to saddle their horses.

When you’re ten or eleven, a horse seems like a majestic animal, wonderful and strong. It didn’t take long though, before you found out that the word “stupid” had been invented to describe horses. They were indeed strong, but a horse did what it pleased, pretty much ignoring the puny efforts of ten-year-olds who thought they could ride. And they’d ridden placid older mares, not even geldings. Geldings were reserved for a few of the older girls who knew what they were doing.

Still, there was a job to do, and Judy slammed a few blows with the hammer, setting one of the corners. Becky and Lydia made only a half-hearted attempt to help. It ended up that Judy and Elspeth tugged the tent tight themselves, then Elspeth held one of the stakes, while Judy hammered it home.

Judy brushed a wisp of hair from her face, noticing that Gamelin was watching her intently. From the corner of her eye she could see Tuck standing silently a few feet away, also making no motion to help. Not very gallant of them, Judy thought.

There was a reason for what the two men were doing, or maybe not doing, she was sure. Elspeth had moved on to the next corner and jerked it savagely. She didn’t need to help get it tighter this time! Instead, Judy pounded the next stake in, and looked up once more. There was a frown on Gamelin’s face that hadn’t been there before.

What had Tuck said? That Gamelin had thought they were slaves? That Tuck was a slave trader, hauling them to new masters, maybe?

Judy stood up, turned a little to Elspeth. “Enough with the attitude! You’re making the natives restless!”

Elspeth sniffed and gestured at Tuck and Gamelin. “The fuckers could at least help!”

“Elspeth, they thought Tuck had taken us captive. Slaves, Elspeth, would have a shitty attitude; they would dog the work. On the other hand, girls with a teacher who are in a bad situation, why, they’d be eager to help.”

Hey girl! I can cuss, too! Judy thought.

Elspeth fixed Judy with a hard stare; Judy was sure she was going to hear about the age difference.

Instead, Elspeth called to Tuck. “Hey, if you think we’re going to put on a show for these shit heads after this, go fuck yourself!” Except Elspeth was laughing.

Tuck stuck his tongue out at her and even Becky and Lydia smiled.

In a few minutes, the four girls were working together, pretty much like the night before, although this time it was Judy who got to pound in all the stakes for the ropes.

Tuck called them all over once the tent was up. “Ladies, this isn’t the Ritz, not by a long shot. Still, it’s better than sitting in the sun. Mrs. Flowers, you’re going to need to be careful, you’re getting the start on a pretty bad burn there.”

Mrs. Flowers and Sarah went in the tent and sat down. Becky and Lydia joined them, leaving Elspeth and Judy outside.

“You’re not going to go in the shade?” Elspeth asked Judy.

Judy shook her head. “I have a built-in tan.”

Elspeth looked Judy up and down, and then turned and looked at the quiet camp. Tuck was sitting a few feet away in the shade of a bush; it looked like he was dozing, his hat was down over his eyes again. Gamelin was leaning against a rock; he also looked like he was asleep. There were two guards by the horses, two more down by the river, the rest of the men looked to be dozing too. Siesta time!

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Elspeth asked quietly.

“I don’t think this is Kansas. It looks like Arizona, but where did these men come from?” Judy responded.

“Sure as hell can’t confuse it with St. Paul, Minnesota!” Elspeth agreed. Then she went on to say, “They sure act like they own the fucking place.”

Elspeth looked at Judy for a second. “My cussing bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“My brother is a Marine, my father was in the Navy. It just seems...unnecessary.”

“I’m just blowing off steam,” Elspeth told Judy.

Judy shrugged.

Elspeth chuckled, “Different strokes, girl. Get used to it.”

“Like I said, I have a brother and a father.”

“Well, I have a mother and a father, but no brother.”

Judy couldn’t think of a polite way to change the subject. “My mother died of cancer.”

Elspeth hawked and spat. “I got home one day from school when I was little and got off the school bus. My dog was across the street, peeing on the neighbor’s roses. He saw me and ran like the dickens to jump up on me, like he’d done every day since I first went to school. Truck got him half way across; mashed him flat, right in front of me.”

Judy sighed. “I’m sorry, Elspeth.”

The other girl shook her head. “You missed the point–shit happens. You try to put it off, you wish it on your worst enemies and pray your friends and family will miss it. It just happens.”

Judy started to reply and then decided that there was no point. For one thing, Elspeth was right, mostly. “I don’t wish it on anyone,” was all Judy could manage.

Elspeth’s face turned bleak. “That just means you haven’t met the right people.” She turned and stalked away, heading down towards the river.

Judy watched Elspeth swing her canteen off her shoulder, then dip it in the water to fill it. Judy was a little shocked at that, but then stopped herself. This wasn’t home. There weren’t a lot of people living upstream; at least Judy didn’t think there were. Drinking water from the river should be safe.

Judy turned back and stuck her head into the tent. “I’m going down to the river to fill my canteen. Anyone need a refill?”

That, of course, brought forth a handful of canteens. Judy walked down to where Elspeth had gone. Elspeth was now a few feet away, taking a swig from her canteen. Judy filled the ones she’d picked up; full, they were a much more awkward load than they had been a minute before.

“Next time you do that,” Elspeth spoke out of the blue, “you might want to kneel, then dip. Leaning over...“ Elspeth glanced meaningfully towards the camp. Judy turned and saw a dozen sets of eyes were looking at her. “Let’s just say, odds are the women here wear skirts, not tight jeans.”

“You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours,” Judy told her, not wanting to blush.

Elspeth giggled. “It wasn’t your back they were watching! You do have a cute butt! And wiggling it like that!” Elspeth paused for drama, “You sure had their attention riveted.”

“Like I said,” Judy told her with as much aplomb as she could muster, “you watch my back, and I’ll watch yours. If I make a mistake like this again, let me know. And I’ll tell you if you mess up.”

Elspeth simply looked at Judy with a faint smile. “Whatever.” Then Elspeth turned and went back towards the tent.

Judy took the canteens up and dropped them off. Mrs. Flowers nearly emptied hers in one quick series of swallows as soon as Judy handed it to her. Mrs. Flowers didn’t utter so much as a single word of thanks! Judy shook her head and went back outside.

She looked around. Tuck hadn’t moved; Gamelin hadn’t moved. The one older man who accompanied the men bringing the canvas fly, when Tuck and Gamelin were talking, was awake and keeping an eye on her.

She needed to learn the language. What would happen if she walked up to a man older than her father and tried to learn a few new words? Odds are, Judy was sure, she’d be making a mistake.

It was then that something niggled at her. That was the word for it, Judy thought. A niggle. She looked around her, not sure what was bothering her.

It was faint, tiny, and almost imperceptible. A bush on the horizon changed shape. Not much, just the least bit. She wasn’t watching it directly, in fact, it was just in the corner of her eye. She turned and looked directly to the south. She wasn’t sure if it was a tree or bush; it was just a dark spot on the horizon.

It was her imagination, she thought after a second. That’s all, it was her imagination. She couldn’t see anything move where before she had seen movement. Judy smiled. Now I’m seeing things! She looked over at Tuck, still where he was. It looked uncomfortable; he was squatting on his legs, his hat down over his eyes. Yet, he’d been sitting like that for ten or fifteen minutes.

Another niggle. The shape on the edge of her vision changed again. She looked at it directly once more. Before, Judy thought, it was three small bumps against the sky. Now there were two lower bumps and a taller one. She printed the shape on her mind, determined to catch any change. The middle bump seemed bigger after a minute. Judy tried closing her eyes for a sixty count. She opened them up and looked again. She was sure the bush on the horizon was changing shape.

She walked towards Tuck, sure she was going to be sorry. “Tuck.”

He unfolded himself before she reached him, looked at her. “Judy.”

“There’s something odd.” She looked behind her, at the shapes she’d seen. Even moving five feet, the bush wasn’t visible any more. She walked back to where she’d been. One of the two small lobes on the bottom of the bush was larger; the other was now distinctly separate.

“There,” Judy pointed, “just on the horizon.”

Tuck looked, and of course, couldn’t see what had caught her attention. Judy got more and more frustrated. “I was looking at the camp,” Judy told him, not explaining why. “I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. When I turned to look, I couldn’t see it. It’s only when I look away, then back, does it change shape.”

She was unprepared for Tuck to nod. “Mac taught me that in the jungle. I don’t have a clue why, but your eye can see movement better when you’re not looking directly at what’s moving.”

He took a few steps and dug into his pack, pulling out his binoculars. He moved a few feet, climbing a rock that was ten or twelve feet high, now looking towards the south.

Judy had ample proof of what Tuck said, a second later. The older man, a sergeant, she thought, was watching Tuck. When Tuck got very interested in what was going on to the south, the man grabbed one of the soldiers and sent him to Gamelin to wake him.

He’s a sergeant, Judy thought. My brother says it’s always your sergeant who knows things you don’t. Her brother was proud of being a sergeant.

The sergeant glanced at Tuck and then spoke a few words to Gamelin when he arrived. Then Gamelin went up the rock, but not nearly as lithely as Tuck had.

As Judy watched, she saw the sergeant move next to her. “ _Vas_?” He gestured at Gamelin and Tuck on the rock.

Judy pointed south, moved her hand upwards, wiggling it, trying to look like smoke, which is what she’d decided she was seeing. Smoke or dust. It was awfully dark to be dust, though. “Smoke.”

The sergeant scanned the southern horizon, obviously trying to see what Judy had. Judy pointed to the spot on the horizon. Now the center part was four or five times taller than the rest, and the part to the left was now completely separate.

If she hadn’t have seen the changes, Judy couldn’t have seen what she was looking at.

“ _Vas_?” the sergeant repeated his question.

Judy looked around. Some of the men had lit a small fire and had something that looked like a coffee pot on it. There was a small fire, but virtually no smoke. Judy touched the older man’s arm, pointed at the fire. “Smoke!” She wiggled her hand upwards again, and then pointed south.

The sergeant surprised her. He looked up at Gamelin and called, “ _E’ Mad’ken_ , _e’ zieht Rauck nach Sud_.”

Gamelin had been looking through Tuck’s binoculars. He turned to the sergeant. “ _Ik zeh owk_. _Stant auf_! _Ruhig_!”

The sergeant reached inside his shirt, pulled out what looked like a simple brass whistle. He blew a long note, then two pips at the end, but not terribly loudly.

There was a rattle of equipment. Judy turned to look, and saw the men were grabbing weapons, then going to ground, taking cover as best they could.

It had taken just seconds.

Gamelin slid down, and started talking and waving at the sergeant. Tuck slid down as well and stood a bit off to one side, watching the two men talk.

It was pretty clear they were discussing what they were going to do. Judy looked at Tuck, a few feet away. He, in turn, was watching Gamelin and his sergeant intently. Watching Tuck made her miss something new.

There was another simple pip! pip! on the sergeant’s whistle. At once the men were up and moving. The sunshade was undone, then packed; things were going onto the horses.

Judy met Tuck’s eyes, jerked her head at the tent. He nodded.

Judy walked the two dozen steps; everyone else was asleep inside the tent. The heat inside the tent was stifling; it didn’t seem to matter, everyone was drowsing.

“Up!” Judy called, “They’re going to move and we have to, too! Please get up!”

Elspeth’s eyes opened at once and she grimaced and stood up. It took shaking Mrs. Flowers to get her going, but finally everyone was outside.

This time Tuck was there, a small piece of rope in his hand. With quick jerks, he used it to pull up stakes. Elspeth realized the urgency, and she was inside dealing with the poles; the others were grumpy and angry, reluctant to do hardly anything. Still, less than ten minutes later, the tent was in its bag.

The horses were being brought up. Tuck had been talking to Gamelin, now he returned.

“This is a military patrol. As near as I can tell, a border patrol.”

Mrs. Flowers had recovered enough to be dubious. “We’re in the middle of Arizona.”

“This might look like Arizona, but I have to think it’s not. Here, this is a border; these are border patrolmen. There is a very large fire to the south. As Smokey the Bear would tell you, most fires are caused by men. These guys are concerned. So, we’re going to move across the river.

“How many of you can ride a horse?”

Judy raised her hand. After a second Becky and Lydia did too. The grimace on Tuck’s face wasn’t hidden. “Well, what you do to ride a horse is to sit up straight, hold tight and don’t fall off.”

In a few minutes, Judy found herself on a horse, a gelding. She smiled to herself, remembering her earlier thoughts about the horses she’d been given to ride. Of course, here a very fierce-looking young man had his hand on the reins and was leading. The horse moved docilely enough.

Once they were mounted, they moved quickly. They were arranged in a column of twos that headed north for about a half mile before crossing the Verde River. It didn’t take long before Judy realized that she wasn’t in much shape to be riding. She could feel hot spots on her thighs; experience told her that it wouldn’t take much more before she would have raw spots on her bottom, too.

When they were at the river, Judy slipped off the horse, even if the others, including Tuck, stayed up. Gamelin was on his horse too, although most of his people were leading their horses.

The man leading Judy’s horse seemed to be mildly scandalized that she waded across the river, keeping a safe distance between her and the horse’s hooves. The river was only waist deep; the current wasn’t that strong except in a few places and those were the shallower spots.

On the other side, the man leading her horse gestured for Judy to get up again. Not! Not with wet jeans!

She shook her head, and said, “Not with wet clothes.” The young man shook his head, obviously not understanding.

Judy pointed at the river. “Water.”

He brightened. “ _Wasser_.”

Judy nodded, and pointed to her jeans. “Wet. No ride.”

Judy thought Tuck was talking to her. “ _Nass_?” He was pointing at her jeans. The young soldier nodded.

“ _Nicht ritt nass_.” Tuck stood up in his saddle, rubbing his thighs.

About half the men laughed aloud–all of the men who were wet and those who were leading horses. Men riding mostly grinned. It was pretty clear they’d had no trouble understanding Tuck.

They moved across the desert, towards the mountains ahead of them. The soldiers were looking around them, their weapons ready.

As they crossed the flat river plain Judy realized she had a captive audience–the young man leading her horse. She would point to things and ask him what it was. He would give the word. Judy couldn’t stop to draw in the sand like Tuck had, so she was reduced to simple charades.

Still, in the two hours they walked, she learned dozens of words, and a few more verbs.

They reached the point where the horse trail they’d been following started up the mountain. They stopped then, for a short break.

Elspeth was off her horse, standing in the shade of a tree before you could say “fast.” She was also rubbing the insides of her thighs, where they would be chafed. The others were slower and also in obvious pain. Judy’s feet were a little sore, her calves ached from the rapid pace they’d walked at, but her bottom and thighs were in much better shape than they had been. Horse-riding experience or not, Judy thought, she’d have been as crippled as the rest if she’d stayed in the saddle. 

Tuck joined the group of women. “Near as I can tell, they measure time by finger and palm widths; how long it takes the sun to go the width of an index finger or a palm. A finger width is about ten minutes, at this time of day, that’s how long they are stopping now. Rest, stay calm, stay out of the sun. A palm width you can think of as an hour.” 

“How far are we going?” Elspeth asked.

Tuck waved ahead of them. “I talked to their boss. I think they are headed for a place I know, called Willow Spring. That’s about another hour, but uphill for about half of that, then contouring around the hills and then a short piece downhill. It’s a nice spring in a well-sheltered valley. At this time of year, there’s probably a stream as well.”

“Why are they doing this to us?” Mrs. Flowers asked.

“Like I said, most fires are man made. This is a border patrol. They had us drop in their laps, and now there might be a border incident. They were cautious and curious about us, now they are doubly cautious, and worried as well as curious. Mrs. Flowers, you don’t send out armed parties of two dozen men without a reason. We need to listen to them and do what they want. They are going to considerable trouble to keep us safe.”

“I’m not going to be able to sit for a week!” the woman exclaimed.

“These are cavalry troopers, Mrs. Flowers. They understand not everyone can ride as fast and as far as they can, so they will make allowances. However, you have to keep up one way or the other. You can walk like Judy has, or ride.”

Judy saw the glance Mrs. Flowers threw her; it wasn’t the nicest look she’d ever gotten in her life.

“I’m going to walk for a bit, then,” Elspeth said. Then Elspeth laughed. “That way, I’ll get to the top of the hill with blisters on my feet as well as my butt.”

Becky and Lydia smiled, and Mrs. Flowers looked away. Judy looked at Sarah Flowers with concern. Sarah had a vacant expression on her face, almost like she was asleep. It was like looking at a picture that someone had pasted on Sarah’s face.

Gamelin walked along the line of men and horses, talking to the men, checking the horses. When he passed Judy, he smiled and nodded.

Judy smiled back and said, “ _Gahts gud_ , _Ya_?”

Gamelin blinked, smiled even more. “ _Ya, gud_.” He bobbed his head at her and went on.

When Judy turned around, Tuck was next to her. “You’re learning the language,” he said.

“When in Rome...”

“This isn’t Rome. How are you doing?”

“Okay. I have the names for some plants and birds, mountains, horses. A lot of gear.”

“Gamelin is a _Leit_ , I think that’s short for _Leiter_ , which is probably a lieutenant. Above a _Leit_ is a _Hauptman_ , who is, I think, a captain. Then _Ritter_ , which I think is a major. Then _Rittmeister_ , a colonel. Then _Brigadefuehrer_.”

“ _Fuehrer_?” Judy asked, utterly shocked.

“It just meant leader, before the bastard adopted it. Try not to let preconceptions color your judgment. I seriously doubt these people have heard of him.”

“Yes, Tuck,” Judy bobbed her head.

“Because you were distracted, you didn’t notice the ‘ _brigade’_ part of that.”

“I don’t understand, Tuck.”

“Brigade comes from French, and probably has Italian and probably Latin roots. It doesn’t belong with the rest of the language I’ve heard so far, because so far the only other romance language words I’ve heard are a few military ranks. Everything else seems to be German- or Greek-based.”

Judy pursed her lips. It was clear that he was saying there was a puzzle about the language.

“After _Brigadefuehrer_ is _General_ , _Marschal_ and _Feld Marschal_. General and Marshal are also romance derived words.

“The troopers are _Jager_ , which I think means a trained private. Then _Oberjager_ , then _Jagmeister_. I think _Oberjager_ is like a corporal, _Jagmeister_ is a sergeant.” Tuck sniffed, “In the American military, we had nine grades of enlisted men, eleven grades for officers. Here they go three and eight.”

It was nearly dark when they reached the brow of the hill that led down to the spring Tuck had said he knew. Judy had already climbed back on the horse, so had all of the others. Now, she looked at the slope ahead of her in the dim light, and decided that there was no way she was going to go down the hill riding.

But all of the other girls and Mrs. Flowers stayed on their horses, ignoring Judy’s lead. Judy explained as best as she could, but no one seemed to be listening, not even Elspeth. They were all dead tired, hurting and not amenable to reasonable discourse. The sun was getting close to the western horizon, they were tired and sore, and the thought of rest at the bottom of the hill dominated their thinking.

As Judy started down the hill, Tuck appeared at her side. “The last time I was here, I went down that way,” he pointed ahead and to the right, “it was snowing and even later in the day than this. I was with Mac, his wife and their daughters, a couple of his in-laws and relations, and Bob Dickie, my high school best friend, his wife and their two daughters.”

He pointed at a gentle slope that led off to the right. “I went down that way, instead of straight ahead. I was tired; everyone else was tired. I turned too soon.”

Judy shrugged, not understanding.

He nodded and then gave a laugh. “Yeah, you had to have been there. You should have heard the bitching when I turned everyone around, and made them come back uphill, until we could go down the right slope.” He waved down the gentle rise. “A half mile from here is a five hundred foot cliff. Imagine that in the dark and snow.”

Judy swallowed. Thanks, but no thanks!

“Mac thought it was hilariously funny; I hadn’t, after all, gone over the edge. He’s never been able to tolerate people bitching.” Tuck continued walking next to Judy for a bit. The hill wasn’t so much steep as persistently trending downward.

Halfway down Judy could see a small fire ahead of them. In no time, they reached the camp; it was then Judy realized that a dozen or so of Gamelin’s people had gone ahead to set things up, including their tent.

There was a hasty supper, and then everyone was in their sleeping bags, inside Tuck’s tent, snoring away. Except Judy.

She knew she should be exhausted. She hadn’t slept hardly at all last night and now she’d walked and ridden cross-country a half dozen miles. Oh yeah, crossed a river.

Still, Judy got up and walked outside. She smiled almost at once. Tuck was sitting a few feet away, his sleeping bag draped around his shoulders; his hat pulled down over his eyes. He didn’t move or say anything when she came out.

Not far away the main fire flared; Judy could see Gamelin and his sergeant, talking. Earlier, she’d decided not to seek a conversation, tonight...why not?

She walked towards the fire, aware that both men were watching her. At least this time, they weren’t looking at the backside of her jeans.

“ _Gud Abend_ ,” Gamelin said plainly.

Good evening, night or something else, Judy thought.

“Hello,” she replied. “ _Vas los_?”

Two hours later she had acquired another few dozen words. The only thing that sustained her towards the end was the fact that once she figured out one word, one or two more came quickly thereafter.

Twice in the two hours, the sergeant had gotten up, moving around the camp. Each time he was gone for the better part of a half hour. Each time when he returned, he’d give a brief report to Gamelin.

Gamelin finally pointed at the tent. “ _Schlief_!” Close enough, Judy thought, to sleep. And pretty clear.

“ _Abend_ ,” she said, nodding, got up and walked back towards the tent.

When she was near Tuck, she heard a single word. “Girl!”

Judy looked at him and he spoke in low, serious tones. “In the Special Forces, they made it clear: we weren’t going to be heroes. You could single-handedly save western civilization and your boss would give you an atta-boy, but no medals. Judy, you can’t be a hero, so sorry. First you gotta sign up. That’s just not going to happen.”

He was looking at her, his eyes calm but thoughtful.

“I’m not trying to be a hero. I just want to learn the language.”

“Get some sleep, Judy,” he was dismissive.

Instead of leaving, Judy stepped towards him. “Listen, Tuck. I don’t want to die here, okay? I have a brother I love, a father who’s probably going out of his mind worrying about what’s happened to me. I owe it to them to come back. Do you understand? Whatever it takes!”

She was a little surprised at her anger and vehemence. More surprised when Tuck simply ignored her. “Without sleep, you’re going to be screwed up. Screwed up, you won’t be any use to yourself, much less anyone else.”

He pointed his thumb at the tent. “Git!”

She got. Put like that, what choice did she have?

Judy didn’t bother with her sleeping bag, she just left it rolled up and used it as a fat pillow.

Someone coughing woke her up. Judy opened her eyes and heard the cough again. There was a scramble a few feet away, and someone went out the tent entrance, moving hurriedly. Judy got up, thinking Elspeth had to use the bushes and not wanting her to be out there by herself.

Judy staggered as she reached the standing position. Her muscles ached everywhere, from her feet, her legs, thighs, bottom and back. She gritted her teeth and went outside.

It was early dawn; the light was soft but you could make out the details of the rocks and hills around them. She saw Elspeth a short distance away, leaning over some bushes, being sick.

Judy took a couple of steps towards her, to be brought up short when Elspeth turned, her knife in her hand.

“Go fuck yourself!” Elspeth’s voice was hard, bitter, and angry.

Elspeth’s voice might have been all of those, but a second later Elspeth was being sick on the bushes again. “Go away!” Elspeth didn’t even bother turning around this time.

It wasn’t the first time Judy had heard that word from Elspeth, but hearing it used referring to her was a first. Elspeth’s anger...that hadn’t been feigned, either.

Judy turned, ducked back into the tent, grabbed her canteen and went back. Elspeth was bent over double, still being sick.

“I told you, you stupid bitch! Leave me alone!”

Judy ignored her. “You can wash your mouth out with this.” Judy held the canteen out towards Elspeth.

Beyond Elspeth, she could see Tuck talking to Gamelin and the sergeant down by where the fire had been the night before. They all seemed to be looking to the south, paying them no attention at all.

Judy could see anger and loathing in Elspeth’s eyes. It was like a cartoon light bulb lighting up over her head. Barfing in the morning. It wasn’t Judy that Elspeth was angry at...it was Elspeth being angry at herself.

Elspeth stepped towards Judy and Judy hastily stepped back, concerned about the knife Elspeth held. Elspeth saw where Judy was looking and snorted. Elspeth snapped her wrist and the knife blade was gone. Elspeth slid the handle back into her jeans.

Judy had never seen a switchblade before, but that was what it was, she was sure. Elspeth took a slower step towards Judy.

“Stop thinking. Keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?”

Judy shrugged. “I don’t gossip.” Judy waved at the bushes. “But it won’t take very many mornings of being sick before someone else thinks for themselves.”

“You’re an eager-beaver, do-gooder, girl. Don’t practice that shit on me. I mean it.”

Judy let herself smile slightly. “You can wash your mouth out from my canteen. That or I have a bar of soap handy.”

“It would be a pretty good fight we’d have, were you to try it.” Elspeth’s voice was cold and hard.

“You have a problem, Elspeth. We have to deal with things as best we can. You can go it alone, or get some help.”

“Yeah, well, let me explain the facts of life to you, do-gooder. Uncle Mac was an army medic. My parents sent their soiled, knocked-up kid here so her uncle could take care of things. Do you understand?”

Judy swallowed. Yeah, she understood. She nodded woodenly.

“You understand things, don’t you do-gooder?” Elspeth insisted.

“Yeah.”

“Well, last time I looked, my uncle isn’t around. Worse, I kind of have to think these guys are the top of the line or as close as it gets here–which means I’m kinda stuck with my problem.”

“Elspeth, we’re all stuck with our problem.”

“Let’s just say I figure mine is bigger than yours and is going to be solved, one way or another in the next six months.”

Judy shook her head. “Your problem is different than ours. But not much.” Judy pointed downhill, where a half dozen men, heavily armed, were riding single file southwards, towards a low spot on the eastern end of the ridge. The sergeant was trotting alongside them, as well as one of the men Judy had pegged as a native guide.

Elspeth looked, then turned back to Judy.

“These men are scared, Elspeth. You can see it in their eyes. They never let their weapons get out of reach. Your problem isn’t going to be quite so immediate.”

“Do-gooder, you have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“So, do you want me to get the soap, or are you going to use the canteen?”

Elspeth turned, hawked and spat into the bushes, then she did rinse her mouth.

Judy was intent on Elspeth; she didn’t notice Tuck was headed their way, until he was almost up to them. “Morning, Judy, Elspeth,” he greeted them.

“I notice it’s not fine or good,” Elspeth growled.

“No, but it’s adequate. Gamelin had them dig a latrine pit for you ladies, over there.” He pointed into a wash, downhill from the camp and spring, but not close to where the water ran. There was a clump of bushes, with a piece of white cloth tied around a branch.

“They have a corn porridge they eat for breakfast,” Tuck grimaced as he spoke. “It’ll take a serious amount of getting used to. I was going to make some rice here, shortly.”

“Rice for breakfast?” Elspeth started turning green.

“Think of it as pudding,” Judy said hastily, “My mom loved to make rice pudding.”

“I gotta pee,” Elspeth said prosaically, turned and headed for the bushes at a rapid rate.

Judy could see Tuck’s eyes were on her. He’s not stupid, she thought.

“What’s going on this morning?” Judy asked, trying to keep her voice level and unconcerned.

“We had a little discussion of communications theory. Gamelin’s sending out some scouts towards the south, to see what’s up. We went up the ridge earlier, but this is a bad angle; you can’t see much south of us.”

“What are we going to do?” Judy asked.

“Today, it’s rest. Stay close to camp, keep your things packed and ready to go. Wait.” A smile appeared on his face. “Get some sleep. Rest your feet and butt.”

“My feet are fine. I’m out of practice riding.”

“Well, none of you fell off–that’s something.” Tuck chuckled, as he saw Elspeth coming back towards them. From her awkward walking it was clear she had blisters on her feet and likely her bottom. “Send down people as they wake up for breakfast. At this point in time, there’s no hurry. You might want to help each other with blisters. I’d go easy with band-aids and any other medical supplies you have.”

II

Gamelin watched the tall, dark-skinned girl leave the fire and go back up the hill, towards the tent. She vanished inside it, after a few words with Tuck.

Sergeant Vosper spoke quietly. “She is different from the others. She knows how to sit a horse, although I don’t think she’s ridden for a while.”

That would mean, Gamelin thought, a carriage. Something a nobleman would use, or a rich merchant or artisan from a town. He remembered the sorcerer’s wagon across the river and smiled slightly to himself. Or perhaps she was used to riding in a sorcerous wagon.

“And this Tuck, Sergeant? What do you make of him?”

“He’s a soldier. You can see it when he looks at the camp; the way he’s always looking around. My first thought was that he’s a spy. Except for whom? The Mexicotál?”

Gamelin snorted. “No!”

“No,” his sergeant agreed. “The Zarthani? If they had rifles and pistols like his, they’d be in Hostigos by next summer and they wouldn’t need spies. Then there are the women. The Zarthani are even more careful of their women than we are–they don’t ever let them fight.

“These women are soft, Lieutenant. Very soft. Which means, they are noblemen’s daughters or those of rich city men. I suppose they could be hostages, but this area is too dangerous.”

“They could be what he says,” Gamelin said.

“It is the only thing that makes halfway sense; nothing makes more sense,” Vosper commented.

“They had a bad fire in Mogdai village yesterday.”

“Mogdai is made of baked mud. One of the buildings might burn, but not more than that. And that was a big fire, and more than one building was burning.”

“We must send out men at first light to scout,” Gamelin told his sergeant.

“We should send six mounted troopers, two southeast and two southwest and two up the middle,” Vosper told Gamelin.

“Send a seventh trooper, a little behind the others. He stays a ridge line back from the others,” Gamelin commanded. “If the forward scouts see anything, he’ll relay it to us.”

“There are two big ravines between here and Mogdai, on this side of the river,” Vosper reminded Gamelin.

“We’ll send Sergeant Tremos with the last man, he can be on the next ridge.”

Vosper bobbed his head. “Lieutenant, I must make the rounds.” The sergeant bounced up, headed towards the ridge to the south. Gamelin shrugged, hoping the sergeant would get some sleep, sooner if not later.

The night was warmer than Gamelin expected and he took several short naps. Twice, Vosper came to the fire and napped as well and each of those times Gamelin would go out, without saying a word. Showing the old sergeant he wasn’t sleeping so soundly as all that.

Gamelin kept a close eye on the stars and made sure he was up and about when Vosper woke up the men who’d be scouting southwards. Gamelin wasn’t entirely surprised to see Tuck, standing near the fire, pretending to warm his hands.

“What do?” Tuck asked about the preparations.

It took a bit to get the concept of scouting southwards to Tuck, but in the end he nodded. “How know what find?” Tuck asked Gamelin.

Signal mirrors weren’t exactly a military secret, but Gamelin was still reluctant to part with any information. Of course, when the High King had asked about what was going on in Hostigos, Prince Ptosphes had told him, and the result was history. That was the night that the High King had shown the prince how to make fireseed on his own council table, in front of Prince Ptosphes' assembled advisors. And, for good measure, used it to fire a bullet into a billet of firewood.

A little sulfur, a little charcoal, some niter, mix together, grind carefully and you had fireseed, the supposed Temple Secret of Styphon. Half a year later, three princedoms that had opposed Ptosphes had been conquered, their princes turned, killed or put to flight.

What might Tuck know?

“We use this,” Gamelin told him, holding up a signaling mirror, handing it to Tuck.

Tuck grinned, and mimed how it worked.

So, not a big thing, then! Gamelin thought.

“Tell what see, when?” Tuck continued.

Gamelin frowned. Wasn’t that obvious? “Report when see something.”

Tuck shook his head and drew his finger across his throat. “If can’t talk?”

Gamelin smiled, so chopping heads wasn’t unique; he wondered what Tuck would think of the High King’s method of executing unrepentant priests of Styphon? Still, the answer to the question was that you didn’t know. Gamelin shrugged–obviously you wouldn’t know.

Tuck laughed. “Signal, one palm width. Signal two palm width. Three, four...”

Vosper laughed. “Signal what?”

“See nothing,” Tuck told them.

Gamelin didn’t see the point in that; neither did Vosper.

Tuck was patient. “Signal say, ‘see nothing,’ so you know, they okay. True?”

Gamelin nodded in agreement; that was obvious enough. Even as he thought that, he understood. “If no signal, then know not okay. Know that direction, bad.”

Gamelin tried not to be as excited as he felt.

Vosper said it before Gamelin could. “Oh! Now that’s clever!”

“You wonder why no one has thought of it before,” Gamelin said, shaking his head.

“Because it is so simple. It is like the High King, teaching us zero.”

When he said the word, Tuck looked at him. “Zero?” Tuck sketched a round circle in the air.

“Yes, zero.” Gamelin repeated the numbers again, starting with zero this time. Why hadn’t he thought to draw them on the ground? Why had he started with one? Gamelin shivered. Dralm sent, Galzar taught! That’s what was said about the High King. And here was a man, almost certainly from the High King’s homeland, who could count and who knew clever things...what else did he know? Besides zero and how to use a signal mirror?

Vosper spoke quietly to Gamelin, “Remember that the night the High King appeared–the Nostori raided a village near Wulf’s Farm. And that night the High King rallied the local farmers, checked the raiders, allowing the local troopers to destroy them. I will tell the scouts to be very, very careful. And to signal every palm width, regardless of what they’ve seen.”

“See to it,” Gamelin commanded.

Gamelin regarded Tuck, while Vosper started explaining what was required of the troopers. There were a few grumbles at first, but a reminder of the High King’s personal history had as much effect on them as it had on Gamelin and Vosper. Perhaps more so.

Tuck waved up at the tent with his students in it. “What do here?”

“Stay.” Gamelin rubbed his butt, his feet. “Rest.” Rest took a bit to make clear, but not much.

“City girl,” Tuck explained. “Not much practice, know little...”

It was clear he was telling Gamelin that his charges were inexperienced in the field. Since that was clear, Gamelin thought he was trying to defend their lack of knowledge. Well, Gamelin had a sister and brothers, and none of them rode as well as Judybondi. And Tuck himself had shown as much ease and comfort in the saddle as Gamelin’s troopers.


	6. Anthropology 101

I

Tanda Havra glanced at the sixteen-year-old village girl kneeling a few feet away from where she too knelt. The two of them were grinding herbs in stone metates, as village women had done for thousands of years. No expression showed on Tanda’s face, but inwardly she could only shake her head in sad amusement. 

Tazi would not believe how far away Tanda was from, nor would she have anything but confusion if Tanda had been able to even attempt to explain it.

For all of that distance, Tanda could see the taut lines of Tazi’s neck, the rigid set of the young woman’s shoulders and back, all making it quite clear that Tazi was exceedingly angry, and completely unable to do anything about it. Understanding though, wasn’t going to be enough, not now. Not on this day.

This was me too, girl, Tanda thought. I’ve been just as angry. There were different reasons, but the anger at my father and the village elders wasn’t very much different than what the younger woman was feeling right now. 

You have no idea what that my life was like, girl. None. I’ve told no one here of my life before I came to this village. I’ve been here five years. During the first year maybe three people spoke to me. I was so ignorant, so stupid; I never thought to see if my name had a local meaning. I was from far away, how could it possibly matter? Who would have thought that such different languages could have a word in common, but with such different meanings?

Tanda meant death or killing to these people. Very few cultures warm to you if you introduce yourself as Death. You would think a thorough university education would have at least mentioned that you had to check everything and assume nothing, even to the smallest, simplest detail.

Tanda’s second winter in the village had seen a particularly harsh season. There had been many great storms. The snow on the hills had come early and stayed late. She’d joined the hunting and had brought back a deer each and every time she went out. Afoot, armed only with a knife. That’s when they had given her a second name–Havra. Tanda Havra. Kills-from-Behind.

You can become popular quickly when you have plenty of meat in a famine. She had very good instincts and plenty of childhood experience hunting game. That part of her personal history though had been overlain by what had happened to her after her childhood and some of her youth.

Tanda had been born halfway around the planet, in the southern part of a continent these people didn’t even know existed, even if they’d been from there originally.

Tanda hadn’t had an easy childhood. From the very first she was different that everyone else in her village. She was darker-skinned than the others, taller and stronger. She had six summers when a boy, a peer, pushed her and tried to take the piece of meat she’d been eating. She’d simply hit him once, hard, in the stomach. He’d gone away in pain, angry.

By the time she was twelve, she towered head and shoulders over her peers, and for that matter, most of the others in the village. She was tall, willowy thin, and wiry strong. As well as having far darker skin than any of the others of the village, she had thinner, more delicate features in her face.

One day two boys had tried to drag her into the bushes; she’d broken one boy’s arm, and smashed the other boy’s teeth.

Instead of standing up for her at the council fire, Tanda’s father had turned his back on her. It might have gone badly, but Tanda had had help from an unexpected source: the two village Grandmothers had laughed at her father. They sat at the council fire and laughed, cackling and clapping their hands in mirth, holding their sides and laughing and laughing.

Being back-sided was the worst single insult one blood relative could give another. Being laughed at by the Grandmothers was the worst insult imaginable for a man. Tanda had spoken for herself at the council fire, explained what had happened.

That hadn’t convinced the council elders. But the oldest Grandmother had pointed to another girl. “Speak!”

And so the girl had, telling of how the same two boys had pulled her into the bushes, then threatened her with a knife after they’d had their way with her. Twice more the Grandmothers had pointed to young women of the village, all of whom had spoken similar tales of the same two boys.

The young men had been banished and Tanda’s father had been humiliated yet again.

Tanda had been called the next day to speak to the oldest Grandmother. “Many years ago, dark-skinned men, very tall, came to the village. They killed all who resisted, raped the women, and took what they wanted. Your mother was a woman they took, but she escaped and returned, with blood on the knife she brought back with her. Her husband could not turn out such a woman. If he had tried, we’d have turned him out. Women, Tanda, we are not as big and strong as our men, but we have our own ways. Being forced, Tanda, is something that happens. We can’t do much, but we do what we can. Babies, Tanda, they happen. You happened.”

A moon later, a small party of traders passed through the village. They were, they said, looking for young men and women who would be interested in working for them. Any who went with them would be paid well; they would be allowed to return in a year to their families. They offered many blandishments, items worth a great deal.

Tanda had gone with them, life in the village, Grandmothers aside, wasn’t for her.

The party of traders hadn’t gone many miles before the strangers gathered the villagers in front of their fire. “We are not magicians and we are not gods. We can do things that you can’t, is all. You could learn to do these things, if that is your desire. Here is one of those things we can do that you can’t.” Out of nothing a dark shape had materialized in the night.

At least two of the boys, one of them the boy Tanda had punched in the gut many years before, peed themselves. Tanda had blinked, but her curiosity overwhelmed her fear. The half dozen villagers who had volunteered were ushered inside the dark maw and that was the start of the rest of her life.

The strangers didn’t explain things very much, not at first. She’d been taken to a town, a place with bright sun, warm breezes and soft waves on a beach not far from the town. She’d been asked questions and given what she knew now were tests. Medical and general intelligence tests. Tanda knew she was healthy, but she had no idea she was smart too.

A kindly man, a little plump, far darker-skinned than even she was, had explained things to Tanda, at least a little. “My people have many things. We are rich beyond your comprehension, at least what you comprehend now. One thing we lack is a desire to do work that requires physical effort, or work that we consider demeaning. Work such as tending to the needs of others, acting as servants. Doing work that requires contact with dirt and mess.

“We go places, very far away from our homes. We ask people, poor people like yourself, if they would do some of the jobs that we do not want to do. Jobs that are not so bad, not really. Cleaning, cooking and sewing, tending children and animals. All sorts of things, simple things, everyday things that you knew in your village.

“Some though, some of the people we meet are pretty smart. Someone like you, Tanda. Such people usually do not have happy lives at home, because they don’t fit in. To them, we offer a special treasure, if they want it.

“We will send you to school, Tanda. A school is a place where people will teach you all sorts of things. How far you go in school will be determined by how hard you are willing to work, how much you want to learn. School isn’t for all, or even most people like you, Tanda. It’s work, but of a different sort than you are used to.”

It hadn’t taken even that much to convince her to agree to be schooled by the strangers. For five years she’d studied hard, there at that beautiful place by the sea. Classmates came and classmates left. Teachers came and went, Tanda remained. She was a tall, dark-skinned sponge who absorbed all they taught and was always hungry for more.

At the end of five years the same plump man had shaken her hand. “You’ve done very well, Tanda. Now, you have another choice to make. You’ve been told about the job opportunities that you are qualified for. We have also explained to you the areas of further study you may undertake if that is your wish. You have to pick, Tanda. Or you can go home.”

She’d long since learned how to make rude gestures. She made one then. The two of them had laughed and she had opted to continue her studies.

“Then, I will tell you one more thing, Tanda.” He’d gone from laughing and joking to deadly serious in a heartbeat. “We travel places, you know that.” She’d nodded. She had, after all, traveled to where she was.

“Let me show you something.” What he showed her was a picture, taken from high up. It didn’t mean anything to Tanda. Then the shot zoomed in, until Tanda recognized it as the river valley where her village was. Only there was no village. There was no sign that it had ever existed, in fact.

“This is where you lived, but it’s different,” he’d told her. “Here, in this place and time where we are now, there are no people. In fact,” he waved his arm in a circle, “except for those of us here on this island, the entire planet has not another single human being on it. The only way to leave this place is in one of our machines.”

That was no surprise; they had made it clear from the first.

The man had gone on. “You will attend a preparatory school. One that feeds graduates to the University of Dhergabar; that university is one of the premier learning institutions of my people. A year to prepare further and if you do well there, then you’d be eligible for the University. Four years at the University...” He’d grinned at her. “You would be in the top one percent of the educated people in the universe.”

“I’d like that,” Tanda had told him.

“Except, what I just told you is the greatest secret of all time; a secret my race kills to protect.”

Tanda had shrugged. “I don’t tell secrets.”

He’d smiled. “If you agree to go, you would be trained in such a way that you simply could not tell anyone.”

“Since I would not anyway, I don’t have a problem with that.”

And so, five years later, she’d graduated from the University of Dhergabar, a budding young anthropologist, who was curious about human cultures, how they grew and developed, particularly how they dealt with meeting other cultures, more advanced cultures.

Oh, and the secret that was so important? Why, that was the Paratime Secret! Men in one universe had discovered a way to travel into alternate realities as easily as others traveled through space. Tanda learned a lot of surprising things, including that people weren’t really originally from Earth, but their ancestors had come from Mars, long ago.

Ghaldron and Hesthor had discovered Paratime transposition and within a very short time after that, Ghaldron-Hesthor conveyors had explored vast tracts of space-time.

The First Level was what they called the ”Home Time Line.” That was just one time line, because it was the only one that had discovered the Paratime Secret.

Then there was the Second Level. They were highly technologically advanced cultures, every bit as advanced as the First Level, except they did not have Ghaldron-Hesthor transposition conveyors. Quite a few of the Second Level cultures had learned to travel to the stars. That fascinated Tanda, but not as much as she was fascinated by what shape human societies took. And what had shaped those societies.

Third Level was nearly as advanced as Second Level, far ahead of anything Tanda’s villagers had known, or would know for thousands of years.

Fourth Level was the largest level. The others had all resulted from low probability accidents. Fourth Level was where Tanda had come from. Civilizations on the Fourth Level ranged from space faring to primitive, hundreds of millions of cultures and civilizations.

Then there was the Fifth Level, where the school had been. Fifth Level had no indigenous humans, no civilizations.

There was never a single moment at the University where Tanda realized what she wanted to study. It came in bits and pieces, one idea at a time. Cultures and societies fascinated her. The impact of societies meeting, one far more advanced than another, made her curious about what determined the outcome. Some peoples and cultures survived, some didn’t. Not only did some cultures survive, they prospered. And others wilted like a snowflake in an inferno. She had no idea what the characteristics were that made the difference between a culture imploding on contact with a more advanced society, or adapting and accommodating itself to the changes required.

In her second year at the University a call had gone out for temporary researchers, to study the Kalvan Time Line.

Tanda had been exposed to Paratemporal transits; she’d been in conveyors several times. It had never occurred to her that all was not well with the system. If two conveyors happened to be at the same “place” and the same “time” at the same “instant,” the field weakened. It was possible when that happened for outside objects to penetrate what was supposed to be impenetrable, invisible and undetectable. Sometimes those objects were living things, and not infrequently, they were people.

To keep the Paratime Secret, the standing doctrine was to shoot anyone out of hand that entered a conveyor in transit. When Tanda had learned that, she’d had nightmares for weeks; it had been bad enough for her to have required psych treatment.

Corporal Calvin Morrison, Pennsylvania State Police, from the Fourth Level, Hispano-Columbian Sector, had been picked up by a conveyor. Calvin Morrison was not some poor, lost soul, whose meanderings led him to a lethal blunder. He was an armed policeman, weapon in hand, seeking to arrest a dangerous felon. And when a Paratime policeman had raised his weapon against him, Calvin Morrison had shot him instead of the other way around.

Corporal Morrison had stumbled out of the conveyor, no longer in the Hispano-Columbian Sector where he’d originated. Instead, he emerged into the Aryan-Transpacific Sector, specifically the Styphon’s House Subsector. There, a group of priests ruled North America, based on their monopoly of gunpowder, known locally as “fireseed.”

The Paratime Police had moved quickly, flooding suspect time lines with investigators, searching for the person who’d wounded one of theirs. It had taken man-years of work before eventually a spent pistol cartridge had been found. Verkan Vall, then the deputy Chief of the Paratime Police, had transported into the time line where the empty casing had been found, masquerading as a trader. His mission was simple: the Paratime Secret was to be protected at all costs. If Calvin Morrison was a threat to it, he was to be killed.

Except, Calvin Morrison had not stood still. He was a genius, and on top of that, a clever, careful man. He’d shown his new hosts how to make gunpowder; he’d shown them a great many things. Most importantly to the Paracops, he’d constructed a defense-in-depth to explain what had happened to him and where he’d come from–none of which involved the Paratime Secret.

For public consumption, he was from the Winter Kingdom, a mythical land of snow and ice to his hosts, Korea to Calvin Morrison, he’d been a soldier there. The next layer of his defense was that he’d been abducted by sorcery, and would never be able to return home. A sore topic, one he didn’t wish to talk about.

By the time Calvin Morrison’s cover story was in widespread acceptance, he’d become Lord Kalvan, then Great King Kalvan, and eventually the High King.

Verkan Vall, then the Chief of the Paratime police, had determined that Kalvan was no threat to the Paratime Secret. Calvin Morrison knew what had happened to him, that much was certain. And he knew that he couldn’t talk about it, and if there was any rocking of the boat, he could spoil what he’d built. He was an emperor; he’d married a pretty blonde, a woman fit for any man’s dreams of a wife and he was doing good work.

Verkan Vall and the Paracops decided to take no action against the new Lord Kalvan. But the same was not true of paratemporal theorists. Kalvan was something unique: a single individual who, in a matter of months, had changed the fabric of space-time all by himself. Other people had done the same thing, but few had done it with such dramatic swiftness and completeness. Every academician worth his or her salt was drawn to what was going on. Study teams were formed and sent to Kalvan’s time line and to adjoining time lines to observe what was happening.

Tanda had been co-opted for some of the fieldwork, at first on an adjoining time line. She helped with the studies of what had happened on the time lines without Kalvan’s intervention. Her height and skin color had turned out to be hindrances to that. In her second season, she worked in the Kalvan Time Line itself, with what were called the Northern Ruthani, the natives local to the northern portion of the North American continent, pushed aside when the Aryans, the Zarthani, had moved through. She looked enough like the Ruthani that major cosmetic changes to her body hadn’t been required.

The Northern Ruthani themselves hadn’t interested Tanda. Long before, they had essentially been absorbed into one or the other of the Aryan cultures that had developed. While they retained some customs from their original society, Tanda understood just how few patterns of behavior had carried through to the present time.

When she eventually graduated from the University, she’d opted for the Kalvan Time Line again, but this time she wanted to be placed with the natives who lived on the fringe of the Zarthani invaders, those squeezed between the Mexicotál–the blood-thirsty theocratic civilization that existed in Central America, and the more advanced Zarthani.

The people were called the “Lost Ruthani.” Indeed, they were Ruthani only by physiotype. They had been ground between the Mexicotál and the Zarthani for nearly three thousand years. They existed in an area so arid and desolate that it was impossible for an invader to conquer, except briefly. Life in the lands of the Mexicotál was brutal, particularly for the slave and serf under-classes, some of whom had fled northwards to join the Lost Ruthani.

Now there had been rumblings of war for two years, and all were sure this year war was virtually certain to come. The Lost Ruthani had warred with the Mexicotál for most of the three thousand years: war was considered to be the normal state of things. When war came, the women and children, most of the grandmothers and grandfathers, went to live in the mountain fortresses. This year all knew that when spring came that the Mexicotál would come, and this time, for the first time in a hundred years, the Zarthani would be coming at the same time, allied with their ancient enemy to the south, something that had never happened before.

Normally her village of Mogdai had fifteen hundred or so residents. On this day, there were not even a hundred and less than a handful of them were women. Tanda Havra and Tazi were among the few women who remained. Tazi’s father been crippled ten years before in a Mexicotál raid, the same raid that had killed Tazi’s mother. Her father had elected to stay behind in the village, to make the Mexicotál pay a blood price to take their homes. His daughter had insisted on staying to care for him.

Tazi had shrugged off the repeated requests to leave from Old Man, the village headman. Her father had wept the night before that his daughter would die; he had begged her to go. Even so, Tazi had refused, unwilling to walk away from the only family she knew. Now, she had been told that she was going to leave, that she was to obey her father and Old Man in this. She could walk or be carried, but at dawn tomorrow, she would be headed north and east, away from the Mexicotál.

Tanda had also been told to leave, but not by Old Man, instead by the Paracops. She had worked out an arrangement with Manistewa, the Paracop sergeant who represented Home Time Line further north, in a town of the High King called Outpost, on the plateau that covered much of the country to the north. As soon as surveillance detected the movements of troops, she’d be alerted and she would leave.

Manistewa had told her to come to Outpost, but instead Tanda wanted to see the mountain redoubt of the Lost Ruthani that had kept the Mexicotál looking in frustration for more than a thousand years.

Tanda was wearing a silver band in her hair; something nominally stolen years before from the Mexicotál. In reality it was a concealed communicator that linked her with Manistewa.

The tick, tick of the message alert wasn’t so much audible as tiny vibrations against her skull. Tanda reached up and casually tapped it once, saying she was there.

Manistewa’s voice spoke in her ear. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Tanda. Whatever it is, stop doing it. Go get your panic bag and hit the road. Right now, this very second.”

Manistewa’s voice went on, not waiting for a reply. “It’s all shit, Tanda. Styphon’s purple hell, girl, I’ve never seen deeper shit in my life! Chief Hadron showed up yesterday over in the Central Valley of the Zarthani, to start an inspection, to make sure we’re ready for the forthcoming war.

“That post was run by the University Consortium. It turns out that Scholar Machume has been cheating. He doesn’t actually have the field assets he’s been claiming, instead, he’s been pocketing the fees that would have been paid to his informants. Turns out the Zarthani army marched east a couple of weeks ago and he hadn’t noticed. Machume is dead now, shot by the chief for dereliction of his duty.

“This morning the chief arrived here and Professor Kessta met him, intending to show that not all the University Consortium supervisors are thieves and crazy. Kessta put up the scans of the border area and that’s when the shit hit the fan here, too. The stupid son of a bitch has been running the damn thing on automatic, ‘because we don’t have the resources to eyeball all of the data we gather.’ That’s what the poor stupid son of a bitch told the chief, just before the chief latched a pair of handcuffs on the professor and sent him down to Fifth Level for trial. Malfeasance, misfeasance and just plain stupidity. 

“The damn recon probe camera is busted. Booger doesn’t focus, but it thinks it is in focus. Tanda, there are parties of Mexicotál all over the southern area, down by you. Some of the groups are small, maybe a half dozen soldiers, others number in the hundreds, and there’s a big bunch of them a half day’s ride south of you. Five thousand, give or take. At least the Mexicotál are mostly on foot, except a few officers and their supply train. There’s a big bunch of Zarthani a dozen miles to your west, on top of all of that. Thousands of them. They are mounted.

“Tanda, tell me you’re on the way.”

Tanda had paled as the awful litany of screw-ups had been listed. She had long since learned that Home Timeline people, not all of them, but a good many of them, were fumbling incompetents who couldn’t be trusted to dress themselves, much less supervise field agents. They had a peculiar ability to deny anything that didn’t fit their world view, unless it smacked them in the face, and then they’d try to find a way to make it fit anyway. Failing that, they frequently would lie about everything, just for the practice.  
                  The Paracops were different. They were good people in the Paracops, some better than good. The Paracops were mission oriented. Of course, Tanda thought their mission was cold, callous and cruel, but they were mostly competent.

The Home Timeline university students she’d studied with had been arrogant and supercilious to anyone not from Home Timeline. She was a “prole,” as people like her were called by the people of the Home Time Line. Not trusted, not given any real responsibility, but given simple tasks, just like she’d been told a decade before. When in truth, it should be the other way around.

“Tanda! Tanda!” Manistewa was getting excited because she’d not replied.

Tanda took a deep breath and then held it. Tazi had looked at her, noted the pallor of Tanda’s cheeks, her pent up breath.

“Are you well, older sister?” the younger woman asked.

“They have come,” Tanda told the younger girl, violating her Paratime oath and the University Procedural Instructions for Field Observers. “Run to your father.”

Tanda rose, tapped twice on the silver band.

“No?” Manistewa’s voice was frustrated and angry. “What do you mean, no?”

Tanda took two steps and did take up her emergency bag, walked through the door of the adobe house she lived in, across the square towards where Old Man stood, looking to the south.

“They come,” Tanda told him, “I had a vision.” She swung her hand to the east, around to the northwest. “The horizon is in red flames, banners of the Zarthani, the skulls of the Mexicotál waving. From there to there.”

Old Man looked at Tanda and nodded. “There was a dust cloud to the south, earlier. I sent Swift Runner to get a better look. He should have signaled before this.”

He stared at Tanda for several heartbeats. “Your trader uncle will not be pleased if anything happens to you.”

Tanda snorted in derision. “As if I would care.”

“No, you would be dead,” the village elder agreed with a laugh. “No matter. You will leave. I command it. Take Tazi, the other women, their children and Smiling Fox. Go north, be safe. This, woman, is for the village.”

Tanda allowed a small smile. “You want to tell that to Smiling Fox?”

“His woman is very close to her time, soon Smiling Fox will have a child. He is concerned for his wife’s safety and will do as he is told.”

Tanda bobbed her head.

“And you, Old Man?”

“The Mexicotál will not have Mogdai village without paying blood price. That is all you need to know. Go now.”

It took four women, including Tazi, to carry Smiling Fox’s woman, born in a blanket between them as they headed northeast. A half dozen of the grandfathers were with them, six more women and a half dozen older children, mostly boys ranging in age from six to ten. All of them could run, and run they did.

The village was still visible when the loud “Boom!” of a cannon sounded behind them. In the distance, the cannon shot was echoed by a dozen rifles firing. Whip-crack reports, meaning that those were not Mexicotál weapons.

There was a solid wall of sound a few seconds later; hundreds of fireseed weapons firing at once. So much, Tanda thought, for Mannie’s report. The Zarthani weren’t miles off...they were here. The Mexicotál didn’t have cannon and they didn’t have very many rifles, and those had been rifles firing in response.

Tanda lengthened her stride until she was several hundred yards ahead of the others. Ahead, a half-mile away, coming down from the hills to the west, was a column of Mexicotál soldiers, running at a trot towards the roar of gunfire behind Tanda.

Tanda pointed directly north and her party obligingly turned. They had been about to enter a stream valley of these mountains. Tanda knew the local trails like the back of her hand. There was no easy way for those on foot to go north from where they were, the canyon walls were steep and soft. Those soldiers would continue south, then either turn to pursue them, or continue towards the battle behind the refugees.

More cannon fire, the firing of rifles was continuous now, with only the occasional closer rifle shot rising above the other battle sounds.

First north, then east for them, afterwards. The mountains here were like a spine, running north and south, ridges and washes alternating like ribs, running east and west, away from the spine. The land dropped steeply, more so as you got further north. Tanda decided to cross the next wash north, angle up the side, heading east again, until they reached the crest of the ridge. The others would run along just below the crest, out of sight to anyone to the north, while she went carefully along the northern side of the crest. If the Mexicotál were in any number to their north, they were in trouble. Of course, Manistewa had told her there were some of them there.

“Okay, Manny,” she spoke into the air as she ran. “I can talk now.”

“Tell me you are making tracks.”

“I’m making tracks, but with about twenty-five others. Tell me more about where the Mexicotál parties are north and east of the village.”

“There are four parties to the north and northeast. Four to six men each. Mostly they are due north of the village. There’s one bunch on the other side of the mountains, but they don’t seem to be moving. Probably pickets, watching to see if there’s any reaction from Count Errock.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“There are a big bunch of Zarthani about a half day west of you. Unlike the Mexicotál, they are mounted, plus field guns.”

“And the field guns I can hear banging away at Mogdai? The heavy volume of rifle fire?”

There was a noticeable pause. “There are cannon at Mogdai? Rifled weapons?”

“Yes,” she replied simply. “And not just muskets, rifles too.”

“Shit! The only friendlies about are a Hostigi patrol north of you, but there are only two dozen of them. Their boss is the newest, youngest officer at Outpost. He’s the oldest son of the Count of the Trygath.”

Tanda ignored that. Those men were going to be swallowed up, lost like a moth flying into a raging fire. Instead, she concentrated on what was most important to her. 

“Most of the firing from Mogdai seems to be rifles, there was some return fire at first, now there isn’t nearly as much. I’m about four hundred yards from going over a ridge, and like as not, I won’t be able to hear anything more in the canyon.”

“Yeah. This is a giant cock up, let me tell you. Chief Hadron sent a recon probe up and spotted a huge column of Mexicotál coming up along the east coast, towards Xiphlon. Maybe a quarter million troops in the van, another million a couple of hundred miles back. Somehow the University geeks failed to notice them, too.

“For certain, the University Consortium has been decertified; a whole bunch of them are likely to get the chop.

“Tanda, break away from the locals. Make your own way to some isolated spot, sit it out until after dark and I’ll get a conveyer in and get you out.”

“Unless you’ll take everyone, don’t bring that option up again,” Tanda was unable to hide her bitterness.

“Tanda, everything any of us does from here on out is going under the microscope. The bosses are going to be all over this; Styphon’s Hells woman, they already are! There is simply no way you could do that, not unless you want them to end up on Fifth Level. Is that what you want?”

That would be the equivalent of her shooting each and every one of the people with her. They would never see their families or anyone they knew again, and their families and friends would never see them. She shook her head as she ran, smiling, knowing that Manistewa couldn’t see her defiance.

“What I want is the best chance for these people. Manny, if you’re not a part of the solution, then you’re a problem.”

“Tanda, a microscope. They are going to look at what I’ve told you, what you’ve told me. The bosses are going to think you’ve gone native. You will be pulled out and you'll never, ever, be allowed to go Out Time again.”

“Manny, I look at myself in the mirror every morning. I couldn’t do that if I left these people to their fate, okay? What happens, happens.”

“Well, stay loose, stay careful and stay in touch. Manistewa, out.”

Tanda was glad the conversation was over. Not only was it a distraction, it wasn’t going to help and was just going to mess up her head.

The thing to do was continue to make tracks. Smiling Fox was the only one of the group who knew where the redoubt in the mountains was, although it was possible some of the grandfathers knew as well. But that direction was filled with thousands of Mexicotál and Zarthani...it was no longer an option.

To the northwest, there was a single rifle shot, followed immediately by two musket shots. Next came two spaced pistol shots. She didn’t stop running, but that didn’t stop her from thinking. Someone had had a fight up that way. Her party was headed away from the gunfire, so that was good. But who had been in the fight?

Manistewa had said there was a Hostigi patrol out here. Might that have been one of their scouts, meeting one of the Mexicotál patrols? That seemed like the best guess. She smiled. The rifle shot had to mean that the Hostigi hadn’t been surprised or ambushed. Well, no, it didn’t mean that at all. There had been more than one musket shot in reply.

She furrowed her brow. Ah! An encounter! He saw them and they saw him and he fired first, they fired second and they hadn’t done the job, because it was unlikely Zarthani scouts carried pistols as well as rifles, but a mounted Hostigi scout would. So, not only had he survived their first volley, he’d been able to continue the fight.

Would the scout have been far enough ahead so that the shots would have gone unnoticed by the patrol itself? Tanda was sure he would be; those men would have had no more idea of the coming attack than Mogdai village had unless the scout had been fairly close to the column. Tanda crossed her fingers for them. Of course, they had a young officer, son of an important noble. If he kept on, they were dead. The smart thing for him to do was flog his patrol back to Outpost and report. How many eldest sons of a count would flog his horse away from a fight?

She remembered then, old Professor Dinaldi pointing at an unfortunate student, who’d built a fantasy hypothesis based on very little data in a report. “Supposition, guessing! Worst cases, best cases, depending on your prejudices! That wasn’t research, young man! Your report is simply uninspired fiction without the least relation to reality!”

Better, Tanda thought, much safer, to think about things with Home Time Line logic. What was proved, what was disproved, what was possible, what wasn’t possible. Speculation was for later, when she had more data and lots of time to reflect on events.

II

Judy Bondi walked over to Tuck, who was, as he’d been doing most of the morning, sitting talking to Gamelin. “Can I walk up to the top of the ridge?”

Gamelin said something, and Tuck waved where Judy wanted to go. “ _Warum_?” Gamelin asked.

That didn’t need much translation, Judy thought.

“I’ll be careful, I just want to walk some. You’ve got guards up there. I’m just going to the top.”

Judy was impressed. Tuck said a dozen words to Gamelin who nodded, then motioned up the hill, bowing slightly to her.

She started up the ridge and was surprised that it was the sergeant who went with her. At least, he let her go first, which Judy thought, had to mean something. She wasn’t sure what, but it had to be significant in some fashion.

They reached the top of the ridge and Judy saw one of the troopers a few feet away, nestled down in a pile of rocks. He grinned at her, grinned again when the sergeant frowned at him.

She was a girl, she thought. These are men. Hormones! It was really different from home, she thought. At home, boys might once have whistled, but that was pretty much dead these days. Now they just stared. Judy had never had anyone whistle at her, but she’d had a few guys stare at her. It wasn’t comfortable at all, she’d found.

But here? There seemed to be a sort of good humor involved, it was hard to explain. They’d look, and then laugh at themselves for having looked. It was very odd, very odd indeed.

That and this guard had turned back without having to be told, slowly scanning the wash beneath them, then the hillside above it.

It was deliberate, coldly and competently done. The guard might have stared at her for a second, but he turned away from her and stared at the open space in front of them long and hard. Minutes, not seconds. Several minutes!

Judy saw the movement out of the corner of her eye again. She mentally cursed, but marked the spot in her mind, before looking again. This time, it wasn’t hard to see. A man was running along the bottom of the wash. Not just jogging, but running full out.

She nudged the sergeant, who looked startled. She pointed and he looked. Almost at the same second, the guard saw the runner too and said something, pointing in the same direction.

The sergeant stepped back over on the camp side of the ridge, waved. Pumping his arm up and down. Down in the camp, there was a rush to get their weapons. On the ridge, two men Judy hadn’t noticed appeared and bellied down in rocks.

“ _Bleib_!” Vosper told her, pointing at her feet.

That pretty much had to mean stay down, she thought. The sergeant gathered up one of the men and they started down the ridge, running a whole lot faster than Judy would have thought safe.

It was interesting. He’d told her to stay, but he also hadn’t gestured for her to return towards the camp. Judy glanced back and saw a dozen men coming up from the camp, including Tuck and Gamelin. So, something not immediately dangerous.

Vosper was down at the bottom of the ravine now, talking to the runner, long before the others got up to where Judy was standing. Gamelin looked, asked a question and got an answer from the man who was on guard. Judy understood maybe one or two words; it was frustrating.

Gamelin lifted his weapon over his head, parallel to the ground. From the camp came a short pip, followed by three long blasts on a sergeant’s whistle. Gamelin pumped his weapon three times, and Judy could see that the men still back in the camp had dispersed to cover.

It took a half hour for the sergeant and the other man to come up the thousand or so feet ridge they were on. A ridge the sergeant had descended in a few minutes.

Judy had long since gotten bored with the inactivity. Across the wash, on the top of the other next ridge to the south, a light began to flash. Gamelin watched it, so did one of the other men who’d come up.

Vosper and the man he’d gone to fetch finally arrived. The young man was young and blonde like the rest of them. He had a bloody rag on his arm plus a long, wicked looking scratch on his cheek. He stood talking to Gamelin and Vosper, obviously reporting formally. Judy would have been content to have understood one word in a hundred, as it was, there were a few she thought she recognized, but nothing she could make sense out of.

Gamelin talked to Vosper for a few minutes, the two of them off to one side. 

Tuck met Judy’s eyes. “This soldier was the one they sent south yesterday to get horses for us. He didn’t get there.”

Judy blinked. “You understand them?”

Tuck laughed. “I saw him leave yesterday; I asked Gamelin about it. He’s back, without the horse he left on. I’d say he didn’t make it and didn’t bring back any horses. Right?”

Judy grimaced. Well, there was that! But she was curious and Tuck hadn’t said how much of what he’d heard he’d actually understood.

Gamelin came over to where she and Tuck were talking. Judy didn’t understand all of what he told Tuck, but she understood enough. Time to move again, this time, to the northeast.

The sergeant stood on a small pile of rocks and was wiggling a mirror. Judy thought that was odd and asked Tuck about it.

“Obviously, you were never a Boy Scout.”

Judy wanted to hit him.

“Elementary signaling, 101. A mirror with a hole in it. You stand so that you can see the sun through the hole, and at the same time, see where you want to send the message. You wiggle the mirror. Dots and dashes. They sent out patrols earlier today...now Gamelin’s recalling them.”

Judy couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was a certain bleakness in Tuck’s expression. He doesn’t think they will all make it back, she was sure.

A half hour later, they were heading down the hill, all of them, except the guards.

Judy checked her watch. It was nearly three in the afternoon, she had no idea what they were going to do next.

There was another long discussion between Gamelin and Tuck, and then Tuck came to tell all of them what had been said.

“Tomorrow, expect an early start. Right after dawn. Everyone will need to get to sleep early and make sure all of your gear is packed and ready to go.

“I wanted to drop some of our gear, but Gamelin won’t hear of it. You gals will once again spend most of your time mounted. Hopefully, calluses will grow in time.”

“They sure did when I took up riding!” Judy said, remembering. “Lydia and Becky learned at the same time as I did.”

“Good, you’re going to need them. Elspeth and the Flowers women are going to be hurting.”

Judy remembered Elspeth being sick and the reason why. It’s not something they teach ten-year-olds. Is riding good for you when you’re pregnant? Judy rather doubted it. How could she ask? She sniffed in derision at her own concerns. What else could Elspeth do? Walk, while the rest of them rode? That wouldn’t work! The reason they would be mounted would be so that the group could travel faster.

Judy wasn’t sure why she felt uneasy as the evening progressed. Lydia and Becky had come down to the main fire. Lydia had her guitar and she played it, while the rest of the school party at the fire sang along with her. Well, almost all of the rest of them. Mrs. Flowers and Sarah came and ate, didn’t sing and both went back to the tent without doing more than grunt when Tuck reminded them they had to be ready to leave first thing in the morning.

The guitar and Lydia’s songs fascinated Gamelin’s men. One of men sang something, and after a bit Lydia was able to pick her way through the right chords. There were a lot of songs after that, and from some of the expressions, one or two had been mildly bawdy. Lydia seemed to understand, grinned and vamped the music. It was wildly popular with Gamelin’s men.

Finally everyone had gone up to get some sleep, except for Judy and Tuck. Gamelin was leaning against a rock, a light snore that brought a smile to Judy’s face. Vosper had gone up the ridge to check the guards.

“Now what?”

“They sent this guy, Hestius is his name, to buy some horses. Yesterday afternoon he told Gamelin, as he was riding, he saw a man stand up in the desert, drawing a bead on him.”

“Drawing a bead?” Judy asked, not understanding.

“Aiming at him. Survival, Judy, is as much luck as skill. Hestius was riding with his rifle ready, his finger on the trigger, and his weapon nearly lined up on the bad guy. In spite of the surprise, he got off the first shot, and killed the guy.

“Normally, you make allowances, but Hestius seems to be more level-headed than most. I’ll believe that he hit the guy square in the brisket.”

“Brisket?” Judy asked.

“Square in the chest.”

“Oh.” Once again, there it was: reality. There were men here who were a danger to them. Who would, Judy was sure, try to kill them. It was long since past time to get over being shy about what was happening and what needed to be done to stop it.

“They let off with rifles. He says four of them were shooting at him. He was creased on the side and the cheek. Which actually isn’t all that bad of shooting, when you consider the weapons. He said he had two pistols that he fired and he thinks he hit one man, and drove the others to cover. Another good sign: he didn’t claim to have killed two men with his pistols.

“His horse went down, but he didn’t slow down, just boogied on out of there at flank speed.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, we go north. They have a town or small city northeast of here, up on the Mogollon Rim. They call it Outpost. I’ll tell you true, Judy. I don’t think this Outpost place can hold the bad guys. Gamelin says there are only a few thousand regular soldiers there, another couple thousand summer militia.”

“Summer militia?” Judy asked. She was frustrated. It was bad enough not to know Gamelin’s language, but not understanding Tuck when he was speaking English made her want to scream with frustration.

“What we would call the reserves or the National Guard. They report for a couple of months duty every couple years. They come during the summer, between planting and harvesting.”

A few minutes later, he was sitting, hat down over his eyes, not far from the entrance to the tent.

Mrs. Flowers came up and stood next to Judy. “Do you think he’s asleep?”

“I hope he is,” Judy replied honestly.

“We need to talk. Come, please. I even made tea!”

Judy was surprised to see that Sarah was tending a small primus stove; a miniature stove the size and shape of a tin can. Sarah poured hot water from the little stove into a teapot and Mrs. Flowers swirled the water around. “It’s going to be chilly tonight. Some hot tea will feel good against the chill.”

Judy grimaced. She’d grown up in Phoenix and was comfortable with warm temperatures. And it wasn’t that chill, even here in the mountains. Hot tea had never been something Judy liked. A minute later she sipped a bit of it; it was harsh and bitter, a little acrid. Who needed this?

“What are they going to do to us?” Mrs. Flowers asked her.

Judy shook her head. “Tuck is intent on keeping us safe. One of the men who are helping us got shot at yesterday. Tomorrow, we’re going to head away from the trouble as fast as we can go!” Judy was proud that she had stood up for Tuck and Gamelin. They were trying to help them and deserved all the assistance in that they could get. Mrs. Flowers had been a negative asset since the trip had started.

“He’s a man. Men always have...desires.”

Judy wanted to laugh. Earlier she’d thought about the same thing. Tuck might have desires or he might not...mostly he wanted to keep them safe. Gamelin’s men had desires, but they were either in awe or afraid of Tuck’s charges. They were certainly careful around Gamelin.

Mrs. Flowers topped up Judy’s tea. Judy could just shake her head. The tea was strong enough to keep her up half the night when what she really, really needed was a good night’s sleep. Mrs. Flowers lifted her cup, “Well, to keeping us safe, then.”

Maybe, Judy thought, at long last she’s going to pay attention to what’s going on, be a help instead of a pain. Nonetheless, she didn’t do more than sip; Mrs. Flowers was no better at making tea than at anything else she did.

It took a few seconds, before Judy realized Mrs. Flowers was staring at her. As if she was waiting for something. Judy glanced over at Sarah, who promptly looked away.

Judy pursed her lips. Was Mrs. Flowers up to something? What? Anything at all would be stupid! She felt the pinch of a headache between her eyes, and she absently rubbed the bridge of her nose.

For a second she felt odd, buzzed, and excited. Gamelin was cute! Then her stomach rolled over and it was all she could do to keep from being sick. Judy started to lift her head to say something, except Mrs. Flowers caught her, her hand covering Judy’s mouth, and at the same time, twisting away the tea mug. Judy struggled, but her muscles didn’t work. Her limbs were made of lead, and her head was filled with wildly spinning fireworks.

III

Gamelin woke with a start. His head was splitting with pain, his mouth tasted awful. A few feet away from him, Vosper was sprawled, entirely too close to the fire for Gamelin’s comfort. He reached out and hauled on the sergeant’s jerkin, pulling him back.

With a jolt, Gamelin remembered where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. With a curse, he grabbed his carbine, only to curse six more times, as he leaned over and was sick into the rocks.

He felt an arm on his shoulder and turned to look. It was Tuck, his face green and haunted. “Something’s up!”

Gamelin nodded. Something indeed was! He hadn’t remembered being sleepy, but he couldn’t imagine Vosper falling asleep when he saw Gamelin dozing.

Around him, the camp was quiet, entirely too quiet. Gamelin reached out and shook Vosper hard. The sergeant groaned, but didn’t wake up. He shook him harder and Vosper’s eyes opened. The look of anger and disgust on Vosper’s face was enough to make a man’s heart quail with fear.

Tuck went running towards the tent of his young charges while Gamelin and Vosper got the troopers awake. After a few were up and about, Gamelin headed to where the other’s tent was.

Inside, Tuck was kneeling beside Judybondi. The girl sounded like a man who’d been shot in the lungs. Her breathing was a gurgle, and it was obvious she’d been sick as well. He didn’t notice right away that two of the women were missing.

Gamelin took the hand of the other older girl who was confident and brave, trying to wake her as gently as he knew how.

He saw her eyes open, saw her eyes widen, then focus on him. It was a good thing he was wearing a mail shirt! She was quick, very quick, only his mail stopped her blade. He managed to get his head out of the way of her punch, but she was sitting up, flailing away at him, furiously pummeling him with her fists, the knife forgotten.

“It’s okay!” he said softly, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s okay! No one wants to hurt you! I just want to help. Please, calm down. Calm, woman! Calm.”

His lack of any move against her, the tone of his voice worked. She stopped, pulled back, glaring at him. She turned to Tuck and said something.

Gamelin wasn’t sure what Tuck said in reply, but the girl was up, helping Tuck to tend to Judybondi. Gamelin went to one of the other two girls remaining, but she was already awake. Like everyone else, she seemed to be suffering from a headache and nausea. Gamelin turned to the last girl, but was pushed out of the way by the girl who’d tried to stab him.

Gamelin looked around the tent, finally seeing what wasn’t there. The woman and her daughter were gone. Gamelin had a little trouble believing the woman was capable of this, but then, the woman was almost a cipher in his mind and her daughter even less. What did he know of them? Nothing!

Of the ones in the tent, Judybondi was far and away in the worst shape. She’d been sick several times, and unlike everyone else, she didn’t stay awake. Tuck and Elspeth were walking with her between them. Seeing things were in as good of hands as they could be, considering the mess, Gamelin went out to see to Vosper.

“Every man was asleep,” Vosper said quietly. “Even the scouts were asleep, and they were off to one side, hidden in the rocks. Everyone has a headache and feels sick. Sorcery, Lord Gamelin, I’m certain of it.”

“And you would never guess who I suspect,” Gamelin said, realizing the truth even as he spoke.

Vosper laughed, “That would have to mean the useless woman and her even more useless daughter.”

“Both of whom are missing. The others, with the exception of Judybondi were asleep as we were. Judybondi is different. She is much sicker, and she won’t wake up.”

Vosper paled. “A blow to the head can cause that...“

Gamelin hadn’t thought about that. He went back to Tuck and tried to explain his concern. It took a bit, including a check of Judybondi’s head to make sure there were no bumps there. Tuck realized what he was looking for and shook his head.

“No, she drank bad water.” Gamelin saw a sudden gleam in Tuck’s eyes. “Gift.”

Poison? Perhaps so, but then, what had happened to the rest of them? Gamelin would never have trusted the woman enough to drink anything she gave him. Certainly he’d have heard about it if she’d tried to give anything to even one the troopers. All of them? Impossible! Simply impossible!

Tubai, the scout, appeared. “Lord, the two women walked up the ridge so,” he pointed to the low spot on the ridge. “I did not follow far. The men on the ridge were as we were. They are awake now and watching again.”

Gamelin glanced at the sky. The moon was coming up and it was barely more than a half moon. There was light enough now, but earlier? How had the two women been able to see? How could that woman have known where everyone was, even the scouts, who regularly slept away from the camp, hidden in the brush?

Tuck listened; he seemed to know what they’d been talking about. It was getting easier and easier to get ideas across, and he understood this well enough.

“I go find them,” Tuck said firmly. “I can’t let them go alone.”

“The woman is evil, a sorcerer!” Gamelin exclaimed.

Tuck shook his head. “No, I think not. I understand not what happened. Must find!”

It took a long time to get the idea across. Gamelin was going to have to leave at first light and head north.

Tuck said he’d be back by then.

Tuck was getting his gear together when Trooper Hestius came up and bowed to Gamelin. “I’d like to go with Lord Tuck, Lieutenant.”

Vosper snorted, but Gamelin was curious. “Why is that?”

“I don’t like the Mexicotál, Lieutenant. They raided our farm eight years ago. They killed my father, one of my brothers and two uncles. They kidnapped two of my sisters and another brother. They took them south.”

“The woman is a viper,” Gamelin said with heat. “It isn’t easy to fool me; it isn’t easy to fool any of us. She fooled us all. She poisoned one of the girls, Hestius, to make her escape! If you find her, be sure to be careful...and make sure she’s tied up tight!”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Does that mean I can go?”

“It means you can go. This man Tuck doesn’t speak well, but he’s learning fast. If you are patient, if you speak simple words, he’ll understand. Galzar walk with you, Hestius,” Gamelin told the young man.

Hestius walked towards Tuck while Vosper sighed, turning to his lieutenant. “Lieutenant, I don’t like any of this.”

“Who does, Sergeant?” Gamelin looked at Tuck. “I trust Tuck. If he is not a true man, then I am no judge of men. But the woman fooled me completely.”

“She had nothing to do with us. She wouldn’t look one of us in the eye, or talk to any of us, Lieutenant. It is easy to pretend if you don’t look someone in the eye.” He slammed one of his fists into his open palm. “Galzar’s Truth, Lieutenant! I thought I’d learned that as a boy! I was uneasy around her and didn’t know why. Now I know and I will never, ever, make that mistake again!”

“Nor me, sergeant! You weren’t the only one fooled! Me...and I think Tuck. I’m not sure if he wants to find her to keep her safe, or so that he can wring her neck.”

“Were he to do that, I’d lead the cheer,” the sergeant growled.

Vosper went off to recheck the sentries, while Gamelin stood a few feet away from Tuck, watching him explain to the others. Judybondi was now half awake, but too sick to concern herself with what was going on. Elspeth was as hostile to Tuck as she’d been to Gamelin, the other two seemed confused, but concerned for Judybondi.

Gamelin watched Tuck and Hestius jog up the ridge, and then vanish out of sight. “I hope Hestius doesn’t embarrass us,” Gamelin told his sergeant.

“Lieutenant, Hestius is from the live oak country, west and south of Xiphlon. I served with Captain-General Hestophes when he went to put down the Mexicotál invasion. Those people, Lieutenant, can run. And run and run. I’ve never seen the like before, not until I came here. But it’s true, sir. One of them can run down a man on a horse, kill him, then run back home.”

“In the Trygath, we have people like that. Mostly old Ruthani stock, who think horses are newfangled.” Both men chuckled. The Zarthani had brought horses with them, three thousand years before, when their ancestors had come to this place from the Winter Kingdom.

“Vosper, detail three troopers to scrub out Tuck’s tent. Leave it to air out as much as possible, turn it inside out. We will leave at first light.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Vosper went to deal with that, while Gamelin stood off to one side of the camp. The earlier excitement had died down, but there was a double watch now, and the men were careful, looking everywhere, keeping their rifles at the ready. This was no bad thing, Gamelin thought.

At dawn everyone had been up for some time, getting ready to move out. Vosper came down off the ridge, shaking his head. “No sign of them, Lieutenant.”

“Load the horses, put the girls up, half the troopers will walk, the rest will ride. Switch the troopers off at the breaks.”

Vosper nodded.

“Leave the pickets on the ridge, until we are up top ourselves. Then they will rejoin. There are, I think, too many enemies about to split up further.”

Vosper jerked his head in agreement.

Gamelin went to the girls. Judybondi was standing, pale and obviously weak. “Can you ride, Judybondi?” he asked bluntly.

She was so brave! She lifted her chin. “I can ride all day!”

She was the first of the others to mount, then her two friends, then Elspeth. Gamelin was surprised when Elspeth then got down.

“Must ride,” Gamelin told her, patiently.

“No,” Elspeth told him. She mimed a sore butt. Gamelin hadn’t had that problem for years, but certainly understood it.

“Walk fast!” Gamelin told her.

“Yes!”

She pleased him twice over. Because she too had learned a few simple words. And because she was willing to look him in the eye and shake her head no. Enemies do not look you in the eye and they don’t ever tell you no, not when they are plotting against you.

They reached the ridge line, but they were a quarter of the way around the compass from where the pickets were. The pickets were signaled, and Gamelin wasn’t pleased when they flashed, “Wait!”

A finger width later came the message. “West group has not signaled. South group signal garbled. East group says, many Mexicotál west and south, withdrawing for Outpost, per order.”

Gamelin nodded to Vosper. “And Tuck?”

There was a quick exchange of signals. “Nothing, Lieutenant,” his signaler told Gamelin.

“Tell them to return at once, then.”

The order was given and Gamelin sat rigid atop Hellfire, wishing none of this was happening. Hestius had gone south and had met Zarthani scouts. His patrols south and west had almost certainly met Mexicotál patrols, and they had likely been killed or taken. Tuck had gone south and west. Into the jaws of the big bear, Gamelin thought. Now, Hestius too, for a second time.

Sergeant Tremos reported when they caught up. “Just before dawn, I thought I heard rifle fire to the south, but it was distant. I saw nothing. At first light, the patrols should have reported in. The party to the east sent a proper message, they were on the flanks of Lion Mountain. There was just a random series of flashes to my south, on the next ridge south. There was nothing from the west.

“I saw nothing else and came as quickly as we could, Lieutenant.”

Gamelin wished he had Tuck’s magic glass, to look behind them, but he didn’t have it. After a few heartbeats, he ordered the troop to move out. It was with a heavy heart he did so and not with many backward glances. He didn’t really understand his emotions; they didn’t seem to make sense. Tuck was a stranger, possibly a sorcerer. Why should he care what happened to a stranger?

They followed the ridge line for a mile, and then crossed to the other side. Gamelin called a halt just before they would have crossed, spending the entire break looking back the way they’d come. Nothing moved; there was no hint that anyone was there. It was awful to consider what would happen if Tuck was lost. Tuck still had four young charges, and they would fall to Gamelin’s responsibility if Tuck had been killed.

While he had no problem with the responsibility, Gamelin was sure that Count Errock would. That, and Gamelin was not happy trusting a vague report of “possible rifle fire” as a basis for his decisions.

The ridge line they were on was different than those to the south. It led high up on the main north-south run of mountains, while the others joined much lower down.

Gamelin continued to press on, until it was obvious that the High Sun stop would have to be extended. Some of the girls had some experience on horseback, but it was clear it hadn’t been recent experience. They were going to have to walk and Gamelin doubted if they were going to be able to walk far or fast.

They had stopped at an saddle between hill tops; Gamelin was about to start the column forward again, when Tubai appeared.

“Lord, they come.”

“Who comes?” Gamelin asked.

Tubai laughed. “Too many! But, behind the last ridge, your trooper and the sorcerer.”

Gamelin told Vosper, who nodded and took a half dozen troopers back south to the last ridge. A finger width later, Gamelin could see Tuck and Hestius top the ridge. Both looked well enough.

Another finger width and Hestius saluted. “Lieutenant, Lord Tuck has the report.”

“Lord Tuck?” Gamelin’s voice was a soft, almost inaudible question. He’d ignored it the first time he’d heard it, thinking it a term of respect for a sorcerer. This was different. The common troopers were notional. You could simply never be sure which way they would go. This was an indication of which way they were headed.

“The woman? Her daughter?” Gamelin asked, as Tuck got close.

Tuck ducked his head, as subservient as any trooper. “We followed. We went slowly, carefully. They were not there.”

Hestius expanded on that. “We followed them through the sand, Lieutenant. The moon was high, and you could see their tracks easily. We got close, then rushed ahead. There was nothing, Lord Lieutenant. Tracks, surely. Two women, more than two men. But Lord Lieutenant, not a track led away! I swear it!

“Lord Tuck heard something and warned me and I hid in the shadows. Several men, mounted Zarthani, came at us. I killed the first, Lord Tuck wounded the next several. We searched as well as we could, Lord Gamelin. There was no way for the two women to leave...yet they had.”

“Horses?” Vosper questioned.

“No, sergeant. The two women’s tracks were clear. Both have very distinctive footprints. At least four men, they wore heavy boots, very distinctive as well. Lieutenant, we followed the women’s tracks to a clump of rocks in the middle of the wash. There were just two sets of prints leading into the rocks. None led away. Six sets among the rocks.”

“And the Zarthani?” Gamelin asked.

“There were four, Lieutenant, different from the prints in the rocks. We killed or wounded all of them, and then ran back towards the camp. It was already getting light. We followed your tracks.” Hestius paused, “Lieutenant, there are about thirty Zarthani a full ridge line behind us.”


	7. Rude Awakenings

I

Judy Bondi, when she woke up the next morning, felt awful. Her head ached, she wanted to throw up, and on top of all that, she felt she’d let Tuck and her friends down.

She was lying on top of a sleeping bag, not hers and was outside. Judy struggled to sit up, her head throbbing; it was all she could do not to be sick to her stomach.

Elspeth arrived and saw that she was awake. “Here,” the older girl said, handing Judy a canteen, “wash out your mouth. Like you said yesterday, it tastes like shit, after.”

Judy managed to stand up, went a few steps and swished some water in her mouth, then spat onto a bush.

Elspeth handed her two aspirin. “Tuck said you’d have a headache this morning, that you should take these.”

“I’ll live,” Judy said, shaking her head no.

“Fine, wonderful. That stupid woman and her daughter are gone. They dosed you, then everyone else and left. Tuck went after her. These guys are about to move out. Without him. Without them.”

Judy wanted to sit down and weep. What had she done?

“Don’t be an ass,” Elspeth said roughly, reading her mood. “You might have been stupid enough to drink what that woman gave you, I wouldn’t trust her with the time of day. None of the others would have either. I have no idea what she did, but everyone else has a splitting headache this morning, not just you. Take the damn pills. It might not be much, but girl, you’re what we’ve got right now.”

“There’s you,” Judy stated, looking right at Elspeth.

“Ha!” Elspeth exclaimed. “You’re nuts! Your friends barely move when it’s you telling them to move. They ignore me. You can talk to this Gamelin guy. Ain’t none of them going to want to be bossed by a pregnant rape victim.”

“Elspeth,” Judy said patiently, “you might be pregnant, you might have been raped. Neither of those has the least thing to do with what sort of a person you are.”

“Judy, I don’t believe in relaxing and enjoying it. I put up a fight until it was over. I left my mark on the guy. Girl, this is the real thing. Don’t relax, don’t enjoy. You’re in charge. Leave your mark on it.”

In a few minutes Gamelin appeared and signed, asking Judy if she was well enough to travel. Judy nodded. Already the camp had been struck, it would have been pointless to say no.

The morning was hell. First, leaving the camp and Tuck behind. Then, as the heat of the day rose, Judy found herself sweating buckets. There was a hasty conference between Gamelin and some of the others, and some of the soldiers took up positions, watching their back trail. A few minutes later Judy could see Tuck and one of Gamelin’s men coming towards them.

She breathed a silent sigh of relief when Tuck caught up with them. She shook his hand, right after Gamelin got to do it. She listened to Tuck describe what had happened to Mrs. Flowers and Sarah. Judy had pretty well gotten past her nausea, but it came back. The men who’d been there when they’d come to this place hadn’t been nice; Tuck had said he was sure they were shooting at them. No, Judy didn’t harbor any false hopes for Mrs. Flowers and her daughter.

At the afternoon break, Tuck warned Judy she had to drink more. Judy grimaced, but knew it was true. She was drenched with sweat, her blouse clung to her, and her jeans were damp as well.

They didn’t stop again until very late in the afternoon. The other three girls were exhausted, sitting rigidly in their saddles, their eyes glazed with fatigue and pain. When Judy got off, she realized she could barely walk herself, for one thing, she felt like there was still a horse between her legs. That made for an awkward, bowlegged gait.

Elspeth came up to her. “I have to go pee so bad...”

Judy hadn’t had to go until then, but it was like magic. Elspeth spoke and Judy had to clamp down tight on the spigot. She walked over to Tuck who was, as usual, talking with Gamelin. “Elspeth and I need to use the bushes.”

He looked around, and then pointed to a pile of rocks. “Go behind there.”

Judy looked around. Gamelin’s men were searching a small patch of trees that promised some shade, once they were resting. They were well away from the rocks. Judy nodded, and checked with Becky and Lydia, who both shook their heads.

“Drink plenty of water!” Judy commanded them. “You have to or you’re going to get really, really sick!”

She watched as the others took drinks from their canteens, then she gathered up Elspeth and headed for the rocks.

Out of sight of the others, Judy spied a clump of heavy brush and made for it, Elspeth following close behind.

It seemed like he grew out of the desert. One second they were alone, then a man appeared with a long gun pointed right at Judy’s gut. She stopped, stunned. The man was wearing nothing but a wrap around his middle. As she watched, he tugged at the wrap, miming silence. Another man appeared, a knife in his hand, threatening Elspeth. He’d already taken off his loincloth.

Judy’s mind raced. She could scream, she could...

The man who’d stepped towards Elspeth suddenly screamed, far louder than Judy could have. Elspeth was holding her switchblade low, watching blood spurting from the man’s genitals.

The man facing Judy turned slightly, his gun going off line from her. Judy’s hand slapped the knife on her own belt, she brushed the gun further away with her other hand as she thrust hard with the knife at him.

She would remember that instant for the rest of her life. It was like spearing a piece of steak. Resistance at first, then the knife went in to the hilt. The man looked down at the blade sticking out of his solar plexus, then back up at Judy. Then his eyes rolled up and he was dead. Dead before he could fall, even.

There was a clatter of rocks and Tuck was there, his carbine ready. He glanced at the two men, and then hissed at Judy, “Down! Both of you! Get down!”

Judy crouched, but Elspeth simply snorted.

“If they have any friends in the bushes,” Tuck growled at Elspeth, “they’re going to shoot you first, girl! Now get down!”

Elspeth looked at Tuck with a look of distaste on her face. She stayed standing.

More men arrived, including Gamelin and Vosper. Men fanned out to search the bushes, while Vosper knelt down at the man Elspeth had cut.

The man was still sobbing, holding himself there, between his legs. Judy had a couple of good looks. It was pretty bad. The problem with men, Judy thought, is that they had all that stuff hanging out there, a natural target. And Elspeth had gone for the target she hated the most.

Vosper started asking questions, and the man, pale as a sheet, tried to answer. It was obvious he was in considerable pain.

Gamelin, in the meantime, knelt next to the man Judy had killed, pulling her knife from the man’s chest. Gamelin wiped the blade off on her victim’s loin wrap, and then handed it back to Judy, hilt first.

“ _Erst mal_?” Gamelin asked her.

He was asking if it was the first time she’d killed someone, Judy was sure. She simply nodded, and then took the blade and put it back in its sheath, planning on giving it a really thorough cleaning later.

It was then Judy realized that there was another drama playing out, a few feet away. The sergeant had stood and with a series of quick words, was reporting to Gamelin. It obviously wasn’t good news.

At the end, Vosper glanced at the man, then at Gamelin. Judy wasn’t positive, but they seemed to be concerned about something regarding Elspeth.

Tuck picked up on it, too. Elspeth was just standing still, staring at the man she’d hurt. “Gamelin, how is this done? _Wie machts so was?_ ” Tuck asked.

“ _Ehe, pflict. Versteh? Hochehe pflict,_ ” Gamelin replied.

Some of those words were easy to understand. Tuck had said they had nobles, called the _ehe_ or _hochehe_. The one word she wasn’t sure about was _pflict_. Duty or honor? Or both wrapped up as one?

Tuck reached out and touched Elspeth’s arm. Elspeth shook his hand off.

“Elspeth, the man you cut is going to die.”

“Good!” Elspeth spat, the spittle hitting between the man’s spread legs, close to where he was bleeding.  
                  “Elspeth, I’ve seen wounds like this. It could take a couple of days for him to die, they don’t have antibiotics here. The man is going to die a long, slow painful death.”

Elspeth turned to face Tuck. “Too bad I can’t stay here and cheer when it comes.”

“Gamelin is willing to do what has to be done,” Tuck went on, ignoring her. “Hell, I’d do it for a dog. It has to be done.”

He never once, Judy thought with admiration, suggested anything to Elspeth. Nothing. Not that it wasn’t clear enough.

Without a word, Elspeth’s switchblade snicked open, she leaned down and drew the blade across the man’s throat. There was a gush of blood, his heels drummed on the dirt for a second and then he was dead.

Elspeth took a few steps and wiped her knife on a yucca cactus, the kind with wide, thick, succulent leaves. When she finished, she turned back to Tuck. “We still gotta pee. How about letting us use the bushes, now that you all looked?”

Tuck stared at her for a second, mildly surprised. Then he said something to Gamelin. Gamelin looked at Judy. Judy realized he was looking to see if she’d peed her pants. She walked to Elspeth, hooked elbows and went into the cluster of brush.

Later, it was strange. Judy could see that Gamelin’s men would stare at her or at Elspeth. They would talk between themselves, usually not very many words. Then it sure looked like they’d have a short laugh before they would go on about their business.

As Judy watched, she came to a slow burn. It had been a dumb mistake, no doubt about it. But it wasn’t laughable; it wasn’t funny at all. She had to kill a man! Elspeth had killed a helpless man! There was no doubt in Judy’s mind that if she hadn’t killed the man she would have been raped. The man hadn’t been undoing his loincloth because he wanted to take a piss!

The laughter though, that really hurt.

Finally, she walked to Tuck, who was leaning against a rock, his hat over his eyes. “Why are they laughing at us?”

He pushed the hat up. “No one is laughing at you.”

“Sure they are,” Judy told him, waving at the camp. “A couple of them get together, look at one or the other of us, say a few words, snicker and move on.”

He smiled.

“There!” Judy said, outraged. “Now you’re doing it!”

“I am not laughing. Amused, yes. Amazed, yes. Judy, do you know what’s going on with us?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not sure either. But most of these men, Gamelin’s men, are reserves or National Guard types. Called up to serve occasionally, to keep their hand in...they were supposed to be at peace. Except, the war just got hot. They are scared. These men aren’t blooded soldiers, Judy. They haven’t been in combat, most of them, not before this.

“You and Elspeth. You met two of their enemies, face-to-face. Enemies they use to scare their children with. Aztecs, I think. You know, the cut-out-the-living-heart-of-the-victim, sacrifice guys.”

Judy paled.

“Yeah, those guys. You met them one-to-one. You, two girls. Gamelin’s troops already liked you. There is nothing a cavalry trooper understands better than how hard it is to do what they do. You and the others, you are game, you keep trying and even though you’re hurting. Every last one of these men has been there and done that themselves. They know exactly how you feel, Judy.

“And in spite of your gender, you guys keep going.” He laughed then and changed his wording. “You girls keep going. It impresses them. And now, the score is gals two, bad guys zero. Every last man in this camp would like to think of himself as better than any teenage girl who ever lived. But they are scared. You did it, Judy. You and Elspeth did it. By yourselves, without their help, you killed their enemies. And on top of that, well, Elspeth could spit and you both had to pee. Trust me, Judy. The first time most people have to kill in combat, the urge to pee doesn’t exist right afterwards. Or the ability to spit.”

“It was too fast,” Judy said, trying to understand it all. “I didn’t have time to think. They came out of nowhere and threatened us...”

“And then you killed them. Bottom line, Judy. You killed them. Elspeth’s stock went through the roof when she killed the guy. I know it’s not something pleasant to think about, but in combat, shit happens. The culture we’ve landed in is military and has definite notions of honor and dishonor. Elspeth particularly, and you too, did well today.”

“Why do they laugh at us, then?” Judy insisted.

He chuckled. “They are laughing at themselves, Judy! They are scared. They’ve never been there and now you have. You’ve done it, and now they’re telling themselves if you can, so can they. They look at you, and then laugh at themselves for being afraid. When you and Elspeth weren’t.”

Judy’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ of surprise.

She was further surprised when he put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “We’ve gone down the rabbit hole, even if Alice’s Wonderland was never like this. We have to take each day one step at a time, doing the best we can. You’re doing really well, Judy. So are the others. It just takes a bit of getting used to.”

Judy went and sat down in the shade of a rock. Elspeth glanced up as Judy sat down. “Anything interesting?”

“Depends on your definition of interesting, I guess,” Judy replied.

“Is there going to be trouble because we killed those guys?”

It had never occurred to Judy that there would be. From what Tuck had said, the opposite was true. “No,” Judy replied.

“Asshole mother-fucker! The first time I didn’t have a knife! I fixed that! It’s never, ever going to happen again! Not ever!”

“I think,” Judy said quietly, “it would be best if we rested while we had the chance.”

Elspeth laughed. “Truth is, you have no idea what it’s like. I have to eat for two. And I think I need to sleep for two.” Her eyes closed, almost at once.

Judy sagged back against the rock, nearly exhausted herself.

Later, Judy didn’t see the scouts returning, but she heard the discussion. Within a short time, everyone was up again and moving. For most of the afternoon they contoured along ridge lines, going neither up nor down. Later they went up a long ridge, gaining another thousand feet or so, but arriving at a small saddle in the ridge at the top, Judy and her friends were totally exhausted.

“There was a bunch of them following not far behind us earlier,” Tuck told her when they stopped, just short of dark. “When I caught up, the bad guys stopped and didn’t press.

“Gamelin wants to cross the main ridge of the Mazatzals; that’s our name for this range of mountains. When we get on the other side, he’ll be able to signal their base about what’s going on. That’s very high on Gamelin’s list of priorities.

“We climbed a thousand feet this afternoon, we’ll climb another thousand feet first thing tomorrow. It won’t be easy, but Gamelin will feel a whole lot better, once they pass the word.”

“But we’re not safe, even so?” Judy asked.

“No, like you found earlier, they have scouts out. Gamelin and I talked this afternoon. He’s still trying to decide if the man they questioned earlier was telling the truth or not. He said there are a million men headed this way. Gamelin says his boss can, maybe, muster five thousand. Of course there is no guarantee the man was telling the truth.”

Judy grimaced, that wasn’t good! That wasn’t good at all!

“How long are we stopping?”

“Dinner and rest,” Tuck replied. “Sleeping bags, no tents, no cook fires. Lucky us, we have trail mix and candy bars. They have that awful porridge, cold.”

“If we eat them now, we won’t have them later,” Judy said, trying to think ahead.

Tuck nodded. “On the other hand, if tomorrow all of you have cramps instead of just you and Elspeth, it won’t speed things up. I have a cast iron stomach, and it cleaned out my digestive tract from just one portion yesterday morning.”

“I’m fine,” Judy said, her expression a grimace.

Gamelin came ghosting through the twilight. “Tuck, scouts say, there is movement on the ridge ahead of us.”

II

Tanda looked over the bedraggled group of refugees from the village. Tazi wasn’t the oldest, not by half. The oldest was probably more than twice as old as Tanda. For all of that, they seemed to be the village dunces. None of them knew where the redoubt was, except Smiling Fox. And Smiling Fox was pointing to the southeast. That direction just wasn’t possible for them. There was too much open ground in that direction, and more importantly, too many Mexicotál and Zarthani.

She finally decided where to camp for the night. There was a ridge line ahead. It looked no different than the other ridge lines, but that was only from this side. The other, the northern slope, was far steeper; a man could probably get up it on foot, but a lot of men would make considerable noise.

They would camp on a little hump, with a clear view along the ridge in both directions and the desert wash and the ridge to their south.

As she expected, they reached the spot just as the last of the light failed. Everyone sank down to rest, with the only ones showing any spark of energy were Smiling Fox, who was tending to his woman and Tazi, who was helping him.

Tanda gently pushed Smiling Fox out of the way and looked for herself. One of the old women joined her. They checked Smiling Fox’s woman carefully. Tanda knew almost nothing about childbirth, only a few sessions in first aid classes, but almost always the warning that in simple cases it was simple and if it didn’t look simple, call for a doctor!

Still, she was an herbalist. She took Smiling Fox by the arm. “See this plant?” she asked him, pointing to a small plant with silvery leaves.

“Yes,” he replied, exhausted and worried.

“How full is your water skin?” Tanda continued.

He felt it, and then grimaced. “Half. She was so thirsty this afternoon...”

“It is good, you did the right thing,” Tanda told him. “This is a young plant, too small. There are some larger ones back there,” she pointed back along the way they’d come. “Waist high.”

He nodded. “I remember them.”

“Take only the biggest, fattest leaves, fold them carefully and put them in your water skin. When you have four hands of leaves inside, close the skin tightly. Then knead it, breaking the leaves inside. Then shake it hard for a finger width. Return when you are done...the tea will ease your woman’s discomfort.”

He bobbed his head and trotted off to do what he’d been asked.

The old woman sniffed. “She will start to bleed soon. Then she will die. We can cut the baby from her belly and save it, or let them both die.”

The woman was old and wizened. It was odd, Tanda thought. Normally the woman wouldn’t have said anything about a choice. For something like this, a baby could mean the death of them. And of course, without a nursing mother, the baby was going to die, anyway.

“Once,” the old woman went on, “I was such as she. A girl, growing up in the lands of the God-King. One day, one of the priests smiled at me, clapping his hands at my beauty. That night there was a big party, for the next day our village would make a sacrifice to the gods, a virgin offering. I knew in my heart that it would be me.

“Instead of staying to be honored, I stole a loaf of bread and half a bag of corn. I stole a water bag from one of the field workers as he was drinking and singing with the others in the village. And then I ran.

“Mogdai village took me in and I became Wind Runner’s woman. I didn’t want to remember anything from before, not even my name.” The old woman nodded at Smiling Fox’s woman. “If she starts to bleed, I will save the baby. So that one more of us can walk free and have a name to be proud of.”

Tanda mentally cursed herself. She’d lived with these people for five years. She knew there were escapees from the Mexicotál living in Mogdai. She knew that some women didn’t have names, like Smiling Fox’s woman. She’d never put it together. Some cultural anthropologist she was!

Later, everyone was settled down and Tanda went off to scout, leaving the rest of the villagers to the tender mercies of Smiling Fox. Two of the grandfathers said they would keep watch until she returned around midnight and Tazi said she would watch in the last hours before dawn. It wasn’t much, but with luck, it might be enough.

She moved carefully for a mile, and then searched around her even more carefully. It wouldn’t do for someone to sneak up on her, while she was apparently talking to herself.

“Manny, Tanda.”

Almost at once, he came back. “Tanda, I’m putting this on the speaker. With me is Chief of the Paratime Police, Hadron Dalla, and Scholar Illi Grantha, University of Dhergabar. Ladies and gentlemen, agent Tanda Havra, co-opt of the Paratime Police, an anthropologist from the University of Dhergabar.”

“I am escorting a small party of refugees from Mogdai towards Outpost. We made contact with the invaders a few times early in the day, but haven’t seen any for hours.”

A voice spoke, “Sergeant Manistewa says you heard cannon fire earlier today. Did you actually see the cannon? Or are you guessing?”

Tanda wanted to take the man and throttle him, whoever he was. “They don’t make rifles or muskets that large, sir.” She was surely going to be shipped home, brain-wiped and put to cleaning toilets for her impertinence.

“Tanda, that was Scholar Grantha,” Manny told her, obviously understanding her concerns.

Another voice, a woman, broke in. “Tanda, do you think you are clear? This is Hadron Dalla.”

“Chief Hadron, Manistewa told me earlier that there were scouting parties all through here. I heard gunfire earlier this afternoon, to the north. I suspect that was someone from the Hostigi patrol that is supposed to be out and about. I haven’t seen any of them.”

“And you are armed how?” the chief asked. Tanda grimaced, not sure what to do.

“I have a knife, Chief. Rocks. There are lots of rocks.” Tanda couldn’t believe she said the last, it was insubordinate.

“A deep-cover anthropologist, I understand,” Hadron Dalla stated.  
                  “Yes, Chief Hadron. I destroyed most of my equipment and left Mogdai as rapidly as I could.”

“Once you warned them what was coming,” the scholar added snidely.

“Sir, they already knew. The fighting started before I was clear of the village. They had evacuated all but a few of the very old and a few of the very young. Those are the ones who are with me. I came away with all of those left except for the grandfathers who could still fight. They made a stand at the village.”

“I could have a conveyor there in thirty minutes, Tanda,” Hadron Dalla told her. “We could stun your people, they’d wake up in the same spot on Fifth Level. The big difference is that they would never, ever, be able to go back home.”

“Chief, so far, we’re clear. I’d like a chance at getting them to Outpost,” Tanda told him.

“I would suggest then,” Hadron Dalla said, “that you stop wasting time talking to us and get them on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tanda replied. “I’m scouting right now. We’ll move again at first light.”

She tapped the communicator off and pulled it off her head. She slid it into her belt, hoping that they wouldn’t monitor her all of the time. It was, she thought, a pointless exercise and a futile hope.

She once again scanned the area. The moon was showing over the horizon, it was going to be nearly three-quarters full, and would shed a lot of light. Time to get back to the others.

She dropped lower on the ridge, watching her step, watching all around her, moving slowly.

It was the moving slowly that showed the best results. She paused next to a couple of scrub pines that grew close together. As she did each time she paused, she scanned the area around her carefully. Standing between two bushes was a dark shape. A deer, Tanda thought.

She watched carefully for several heartbeats. The animal was less than five feet away, there was no wind, and the air wasn’t moving at all. It was a doe, she thought. Its flanks were streaked with sweat; there was the faintest sound of the animal’s heavy breathing.

It’s been running, Tanda thought to herself. She reached for her knife and promptly shifted it to her left hand. A single step, then a lunge. She moved slowly, not wanting to send the slightest waft of air towards the hapless doe. When her foot was solidly down, she lunged.

Startled, the doe began to move, but the blade drawn across its throat was far quicker. It was messy, standing in front like she was, but it didn’t matter. She did a fast field dressing on the deer, stuffing the liver inside her tunic, draping the meat over her shoulders.

She went a mile and then stopped. Ahead of her, a fire blazed where they had made camp. A fire that no one from the village could possibly have been stupid enough to make.

She was more than a quarter of a mile from the fire, too far to see anything clearly. Carefully, one step at a time, she moved closer, leaving the deer on her shoulders. Still, she was tensed, ready to drop it as the need came to be.

She stopped about two hundred yards from the fire. The old ones and the youngsters were in a tight knot, guarded by a Mexicotál with a musket. Another Mexicotál was standing by the fire, his eyes on a third, who was checking out Smiling Fox’s woman, his musket threatening Smiling Fox, a few feet away.

When the Mexicotál pulled out his knife, Smiling Fox lunged at the man only to be stopped short when the Mexicotál’s musket barked.

Tanda had been steadily moving forward towards the fire. The nearest Mexicotál heard something at the last instant, his last heartbeat. He turned, only to see the field-dressed carcass of a deer flying towards him. He was a creature of habit and fired at the flying shape coming at him; he even hit it.

Tanda slid her knife deep in the man’s belly and drew it up as far as she could go, until the blade grated on bone. The man at the fire turned at the shot, but Tazi knocked him sprawling back, into the fire. One of the boys jumped atop him, heedless of the fire, his own knife raising and falling, over and over.

The man who had shot Smiling Fox took one look at Tanda running at him, turned and fled himself, as fast as he could go. Yeah, not much point in staying around for a knife fight, holding an empty musket.

Tanda flew after the man, aware that if he escaped, or if there was another shot, like as not, the Mexicotál would be all over them, before the sun was up. The man must not escape!

She’d gone a half dozen steps, when ahead of her, level with the party she’d left behind, there was the glint of moonlight on armor. Tanda skidded to a stop and dropped to all fours, looking carefully ahead of her. Many men, perhaps two dozen, were filtering towards the fire, weapons ready, being cautious.

She didn’t look back. Tazi was there. Smiling Fox’s woman. The grandfathers and the grandmothers of the village. A few children. She had only the faintest of ties to them. Nothing that required her to die here, at this place, on this night. And her death wouldn’t change what was going to happen one little bit. She could go to ground, sidle sideways and perhaps escape. Going ahead was death.

She saw one of the strangers, wearing armor and a helmet, wave men to his left forward. A Zarthani officer! Kill him; make a lot of noise and the others might have time to scatter! It was their only chance! Some might survive!

Tanda ran bent double, hugging the ground. Out of nowhere, another man appeared, standing between Tanda and her target. She lunged with her knife, realizing as she did, the other wasn’t armored. Either a very junior private, or someone very high-ranking indeed.

Only the faint moonlight saved her. She saw him swivel towards her, the butt of his carbine driving towards her head. She pulled back, but even so, the wooden stock hit her knife, sending it spinning off into the night.

With no further thought for personal survival, she screamed like one of the great mountain cats and lunged for the man’s throat, wrapping her fingers around it, as tight of a vise as she could make.

The man was quick! So very quick! He’d seen his weapon was useless and he’d let it go, instead, he was trying to break her grip.

He was strong, he was clever. He fell, not backwards, but forwards, trying to jar Tanda loose or crush her beneath him. She felt a pistol barrel against her head and squirmed around, trying to keep her opponent between her and the pistol, but never letting go.

“Hold damn you!” a voice screamed in the dark, “I swear by the Gods, if you let go, you’ll live! As the High King commands, so we obey! Hold in the name of the High King!”

Tanda had been busy, even as the garrulous fool talked. She kicked out, taking one of his legs out from under the man, up-ending him. But the words penetrated. The High King? Kalvan? The man under her was wearing unfamiliar clothes, no armor, and no devices. She let go her victim and reached out, rolling the second man she’d knocked down over, so she could look at him in the moonlight.

The High King’s Halberd Head adorned the man’s mail jerkin. Rough hands grabbed her, pulled her harshly away.

“Yield!” Tanda called as loudly as she could, “I yield to the High King! To his loyal men!”

III

Moving towards the fire the scouts had sighted was one of the most difficult things Gamelin could imagine. It had to be, he was sure, someone innocent of what was going on, doing what one would do in normal circumstances. Then the scouts pointed out the obvious: there were Mexicotál soldiers in the firelight. They were in a war, there was no doubt about it. And caution had to be the key to everything he did.

Even so, Gamelin could only see three of the Mexicotál. It would be nice, come morning, to report to Count Errock two or three prisoner interrogations, instead of one, cut abruptly short. He waved his men forward and they advanced.

Gamelin was aware that Tuck wasn’t far away from him, six or seven yards to his left. Tuck stayed low to the ground and was very hard to see. A shot erupted and Gamelin could see a dark shape go like a whirlwind through the camp ahead of them, leaving dead and dying men behind. The Mexicotál soldiers were the ones dying!

Everyone stopped, taking stock. Someone had stabbed one of the Mexicotál, he’d seen that. One of the young people had tripped another Mexicotál, then pushed him back into the fire and when the man had tried to get out, knifed him repeatedly. The third man had run like a jackrabbit: right toward Gamelin and his men.

“Steady,” Gamelin whispered.

It was almost impossible to see because their part of the ridge was in shadow. A dark shape lunged for him. And Tuck was there, intercepting the lunge.

A glittering arc showed Tuck had knocked a knife away, but Gamelin could see hands wrapped around Tuck’s throat. Gamelin started that way, but Hestius was faster, only he too, suddenly, was down. A demon, that’s what it had to be! It was the demon who’d swept through the camp and who had come now, here!

Gamelin called out in the High King’s name, the only thing he thought might have a chance.

It went quickly after that. Gamelin’s troopers swooped into the camp, dowsing the fire, while Gamelin knelt next to Tuck, who was massaging his throat.

“She’s strong,” Tuck said, gesturing towards the prisoner.

Gamelin glanced at the dark shape. Now that he could see, he wondered how he could have ever thought it was a demon. She was of medium height and had been armed only with a knife. Probably a villager from Mogdai, he thought. Even as he thought that, Hestius finished wrapping rope around the prisoner’s hands. And she turned to face the light, her face was blank and empty.

Ah! Certainly a village woman!

“Let her go,” Gamelin commanded. The response from his troopers was gratifying. They let her go, and then realized what Gamelin had said, they too stared at the woman.

Vosper appeared, looked at the woman, and then saluted Gamelin. “Lord, the Mexicotál survivor saw us, turned and ran, attempting to cross the ridge and escape. He didn’t see in the dark that it’s a cliff. I’ve sent two men down to check the body, but he’s certainly dead.”

Vosper waved at the camp of the locals. “They are from Mogdai, thousands of Mexicotál swarmed the village yesterday. They had cannon, I’m told. The villagers have one man dead and a woman with child, the child due any moment. They say the mother will not be alive when the sun comes up. The baby might live, they tell me. There are about thirty of them, more or less. Mostly old men and women, a half dozen kids, the youngsters all less than ten, except for a girl about sixteen.”

Gamelin nodded. He reached out and prodded the woman with his foot. “You, woman. Do you have a name?”

“Tanda Havra,” the woman replied. She was, Gamelin saw, in her twenties, swarthy dark like the usual Lost Ruthani, but taller than most.

Tubai, the scout, hissed.

“What?” Gamelin asked the scout.

“That means, Kills-From-Behind. I have heard of her, she’s a witch.” Tubai gestured at the woman. “Look at her. She’s covered, head to toe, with blood. None of it’s hers.”

The woman stared at Gamelin, her eyes unblinking, dark-brown pools of night.

“Whose blood is it, then?” Gamelin asked her.

“It belonged to a doe. I killed it,” she said, using the shortest words possible to tell what happened. “You won’t sell us firearms or fireseed, so I hunt with a knife. I slit its throat. Messy, when you’re standing in front of it.”

Vosper spoke, his voice hard. “You snuck up on a deer from behind and slit its throat? Kills-From-Behind, eh?”

“It was asleep. I killed it from in front.”

Gamelin knew that people were capable of doing such things. But he had tried a few times and hadn’t gotten close. Hunting was hard enough sitting on a fine horse, a fine rifle in your hand!

Tuck had gone into the night, now he was back. He handed the woman her knife, hilt first.

Gamelin saw her look at Tuck, obviously curious.

One of the old women came up, one of Gamelin’s troopers helping her. She said something to the woman, who nodded.

Tanda Havra looked at Gamelin and spoke “Smiling Fox’s woman will die soon. If the baby is to live, we must cut it from her belly.”

Tuck said something, distracting Gamelin. Gamelin turned to Tuck. “What?”

“What say?”

Gamelin spent a few heartbeats explaining, aware of Tanda Havra’s intent gaze as he did.

“Let me help,” Tuck said. “I can help, maybe.”

They went in a group to the woman, leaning against a rock, unconscious. A few feet away from her a man sprawled, limp and unmoving in death. “Her man,” Tanda Havra told Gamelin. “He raised his hand against the Mexicotál who would have had sport with her, in her last time.”

Tuck had crouched at the woman’s side and lifted her short dress. Two of the old grandmothers were scandalized, but a sharp word from Tanda Havra stilled them.

After a second, Tuck looked up. “She bleeds. I can do nothing.”

Tanda Havra had evidently understood enough. “It is as we said. Now please, leave us, for a time.”

Gamelin nodded. He’d heard of this, but it was a hard thing. To kill a mother to save a baby...and too many times both died. The High King had helped, nine babies of ten lived now, where half of ten would have died before.

Tuck touched Gamelin’s sleeve, wanting to know what was going on.

Gamelin explained as best he could. Eventually, Tuck nodded in understanding. “I have something,” he told Gamelin. “She will feel no pain.”

Again, Tanda Havra heard him and understood. “No. Save it.”

Tuck’s eyes flashed. “She will sleep and feel nothing.”

“Save it. She dies!” Tanda Havra told him. “Now, leave us, man of the High King! One finger width. Then all of us will run with you!”

Tuck might not have been able to understand all of the words, but he understood enough. “No!”

Gamelin nodded to Hestius who then wrapped his hands around Tuck’s arms and dragged him away. Wasting medicine was a hard topic to convey and harder for Tuck to understand. In the night, there came the squall of a newborn. It sounded to Gamelin that Tuck was cursing the gods. That was ill advised, however understandable.

Later, Vosper appeared as they were sorting into march order. “We’re not going to move very fast with all these people.”

“Yes and it would have to be a deaf and blind scout not to notice our passage and only the halt and lame couldn’t make better speed,” Gamelin agreed. “On the other hand, with fifty of us, an enemy will take a moment’s pause, eh?”

“And will then decide to ride us over,” Vosper growled.

“Ah, but who knows what that pause will give us? Perhaps time enough to warn Count Errock? Perhaps time enough for the count to come to our rescue.”

Vosper slammed his fist into Gamelin’s chest, hard enough to be clear he was upset. “Count Errock would be a fool to come out for us. We are on our own, until we return.”

Gamelin grimaced, rubbing his chest. Well, true enough. “Warning him will mean we’ve done our duty,” Gamelin told the old sergeant.

Vosper nodded, his face grim.


	8. Escape and Evade

I

Tanda Havra tried not to let anything show on her face, even though her entire body ached with the need to spend a few minutes talking to Manistewa or Chief Hadron, anyone from Home Time Line at all.

In the fight for her life there hadn’t been time to pay attention to small details. But in the conversation afterwards, she realized the man she’d fought carried an outtime weapon. She realized he was just learning the language and that too was a surprise. Everyone here spoke Zarthani, or one of the Zarthani dialects. Mostly, everyone spoke Zarthani. Sure, there were regional accents: in the north people spoke with clipped consonants, while around Xiphlon in the south, the vowels were broad and lazy. The villagers spoke Ruthani, but all had at least a working knowledge of Zarthani.

Still, she was brought up short when she realized he had something in his pack that would render Smiling Fox’s woman unconscious. She didn’t think the man was stupid: he moved with assurance. He watched and listened to everything, and even if he didn’t understand completely, he understood a lot. A force to be reckoned with!

But it was odd that he wanted to save someone pain, someone whose pain would be measured in heartbeats as she died. No one on Home Time Line would have cared in the least what happened to a lower level indigene. Yet, the man named Tuck had insisted on trying to spare Smiling Fox’s woman the pain of her final moments.

Tanda respected that, even as she held the woman’s nose closed. Smiling Fox’s woman didn’t struggle, just a steady gaze that transfixed Tanda’s mind and soul.

And when she held the bloody, slippery baby that had already cost two lives and who stood to kill them all, something inside Tanda finally broke. She had been wrong so long ago, back there in her village. The Grandmothers of her village hadn’t done what they’d done for her so she could flee far, far away. They’d done it so she could live among her people. To have babies, to continue the village. And she, Tanda Havra, had walked away from all of that with hardly a second thought. They had done their duty to the village, but not Tanda Havra had not. She had betrayed them.

Another shock came a few minutes later when there was a stir among the Hostigi as two more soldiers and some others arrived at the camp. The others were teenage girls, four of them, obviously with Tuck. Two of them seemed to be in shock, one seemed to be coping and the last seemed to be in angry denial.

Tanda contemplated the pouch on her belt where she kept the silver hair piece/communicator. Her orders in this sort of situation were clear: report, and then kill them. Or, if that didn’t work, kill them, and then report. But, in the final analysis, she was to kill them.

She’d had no trouble thinking about her duty when it was Tuck, an armed adult, from another timeline. But four teenage girls? Not so very different from her, once upon a time? Torn from their homes, set adrift in a violent environment not at all like they knew, having to adapt and cope with all manner of strange things?

Tanda had seen the horses Lieutenant Gamelin’s men rode. She saw the pain and stiffness among the four young women. She could also see the almost open adoration Gamelin’s common soldiers held for them. You didn’t earn that sort of respect from rough men like these without doing something to actually deserve it.

Fingers tugged at her mind, demanding obedience. Woodenly, she walked away from the fires, into the night, far enough away from the bustle for a moment’s privacy.

She fingered the communicator. “Manny, I need to speak to the chief.”

“Tanda, it’s the middle of the night!” he replied, almost without a pause; obviously he was hovering over the comm link.

“I have an important message for the chief. Her ears only.”

“Tanda, there is no possible way for you to have that kind of message. And if you did, you’d have the magic code word that guaranteed you access. Do you have a code word, Tanda?”

“Manny, get the chief. If I’m in trouble, she’ll fry my bottom. You know she will. Chief’s ears only, Manny.”

“Wait one.”

A few moments later Chief Hadron spoke to her. “Tanda, the sergeant says you have a code word message for me. Except you don’t have any code words.”

Tanda grimaced. “What I have are five involuntary transportees, Chief. From another timeline. A male, armed with a repeating carbine and a pistol and four teenage girls.”

There was a moment of silence. “Let me guess...you think that if I knew of a case of involuntary transport, I’d have mentioned it, right?”

“No, ma’am. But, I think you’d tell me right now if this was a known case.”

“Well, it’s not known. You are, Tanda Havra, quite correct in reporting just to me. Because I know of no such case. Which means, once again, there are people traveling the timelines who have no business being there.”

She paused, and then said, “Normally, about now, I’d tell you to kill them all.”

“Ma’am, I’ve watched them only a short time. They don’t talk about what happened to them. There are no rumors among the soldiers, none that they talk about.”

“And my husband once gave Calvin Morrison the benefit of the doubt,” Chief Hadron agreed. “Monitor, observe, report on the transportees only to me. Are you safe, Tanda?”

“No, Chief. A party of Mexicotál scouts came upon our camp while I was away. We lost two of our people, and three more Mexicotál scouts are dead. Now we’ve joined up with Lieutenant Gamelin, the patrol leader from Outpost. He’s headed back for the barn, Chief. I think he’s our best shot to get away.”

“And that’s important, right?” the chief told her. “Getting your people away?”

“Yes, sir. Chief, the outtime man, when he learned one of the village women was going to die in childbirth, wanted to give her something to make her sleep. He knew it was a waste, but he wanted to make it easier for her anyway.”

“I told you, Tanda. Observe and report. I know you have something vested in your people, and now, I suspect, these others. Just do your basic job, Tanda. That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, Chief.”

A second later Manny was back. “Well?”

“Well what?” Tanda replied.

“I guess I owe you an apology. Tanda, how can we get you out of there?”

“No way, the count is now fifty.”

“Shit! I haven’t got a conveyor on hand that big! I’ll order up one, pronto!”

“Manny, don’t bother. Either we make it or we don’t.”

Behind her, Tanda heard rocks move. She turned and saw one of the outtime young women.

“Gamelin!” the girl said, pointed back at the camp. “Move soon!”

Meaning she had to get back to camp, because they were going to move out. Tanda was reasonably sure that the pace the Mogdai survivors would set was going to surprise not only outtime Tuck, but local Gamelin as well.

Tanda looked the girl up and down. The girl was tall, taller than most men. She had dark hair, black as the night and her eyes were the same. Her skin wasn’t as dark as Tanda’s, but much darker than the Hostigi or Tuck’s. The girl again gestured back at the camp and Tanda smiled inwardly.

Very odd! Why had this chit of a girl been sent to fetch her? They could have sent Tazi or one of the boys, so why this one?

Tanda touched her belt, pulling her knife, and then she held it point up, a foot in front of the girl’s eyes. “Little girl!” Tanda sneered in her best voice.

The other was quick, quicker than a cat. She was holding a knife, her hand nearly touching Tanda’s, the knife point up, just like Tanda’s was. “Big girl, big knife!”

It was said in a fair approximation of Zarthani, too.

Tanda looked at the other’s knife. It was four inches longer than hers and nearly twice as wide. And Tanda didn’t think that the dark stains on the blade were fruit juice.

“You should take better care,” Tanda told the girl, “blood pits the metal.”

The girl looked at the knife, then back at Tanda. Obviously, she hadn’t understood.

“Blood!” Tanda said, pointing at the girl’s knife. “Hurt metal!”

She looked at the knife, then back at Tanda. “I meant to clean it. I was distracted.”

Her words were in standard Hispano-American English, but Tanda let no sign of understanding appear on her face.

She took Tanda by surprise again, waving towards the camp. “Go now!”

A chit of a girl, not even as old as Tazi, telling her what to do? With a knife in her face? It took all of Tanda’s self-control not to spit at her. The girl was the messenger, nothing more. So who was it that was trying to upset her? Tuck or Gamelin? Did Tuck know what sort of portent the battle between the two of them had been?

Tanda wasn’t ignorant and neither were Gamelin’s men. Just after Lord Kalvan had appeared there had been an incident that all hailed as a portent of things to come. The first thing anyone knew about him was Kalvan sharing a meal with local farmers, and then getting up from the meal to help repel a Nostori attack on their village. And how had the battle ended? When Princess Rylla of Hostigos arrived with two dozen cavalry troopers, hitting the already battered raiders from behind.

And in the confusion of the fight, the princess had seen a strange man in strange clothes with a strange weapon and had shot him. And not only had Calvin Morrison forgiven her, he’d gone on to marry her, and father children on her. And here and now? More strangers, wearing strange clothes with strange weapons appear at the start of what looked to be a great war and who promptly took the side of Hostigos. And what did Tanda do? Attack the stranger.

Except, of course, she’d been intent on Gamelin, not Tuck; it had been the man Tuck who’d attacked her.

None of which answered the question–who was baiting her?

Back at the camp, the grandmothers were taking care of the infant, a girl. Gamelin’s men had buried Smiling Fox’s woman under a pile of rocks, like as not to keep predators away from her. Tanda had some doubts about what had been done to Smiling Fox. He had been placed sitting up, watching over the grave, one of the Mexicotál muskets in his hands.

Tanda asked Tazi who had ordered it. More mystery...the old sergeant had done it. A sergeant who talked to the villagers in their own language.

As they started to move, Tanda watched everyone from her place well towards the rear of the column. Most of the troopers were walking, while most of the old people were riding, as were Tuck’s four charges. Tuck himself rode, sitting his horse easily and confidently. Tanda walked, not far from the old sergeant who walked beside the tall girl, Judybondi.

The pace was rapid, making those on foot have to trot to keep up. Some of the boys and a few of the girls of Mogdai, including Tazi and Tanda, trotted. Tanda thought they would stop once the sun was up, but they kept on.

It was clear that Tuck’s four girls were in a bad way. Saddle galls aren’t good and the girls were undoubtedly bloody raw. Still, they kept up the hardscrabble trail that led higher and higher on the ridge.

This was beyond where Tanda usually traveled and she had only the most cursory descriptions of the terrain beyond. A little later, one of the boys, about eight years old, stopped, unable to go on. Tanda simply picked him up, put him on her shoulders and kept going, ignoring the boy’s tears of shame.

It was nearly two palm widths after daybreak when they topped the ridge. Gamelin ordered the halt and everyone dropped in their tracks. Tanda watched carefully, noting that Judybondi saw to the others who had come with her, as did Tuck, before either saw to themselves.

As a cultural anthropologist, group dynamics were the bread of life to Tanda. She watched as Gamelin’s men prepared their camp. In spite of their fatigue, proper pickets were set out the very first thing. The second thing was Gamelin, the old sergeant and one of the privates, flashing a mirror into the distance.

Well, Manny would hear about it in due course. With this many people around, getting far enough away to hold a private conversation would be difficult and dangerous, as she’d already learned. Manny would have to wait. With a grimace, she realized that old habits die hard: Manny wasn’t the only one waiting. So was the Chief of the Paratime Police, Hadron Dalla.

Truly, Tanda thought, the old saying was right. If you’re to be hung, be hung for a sheep, not a lamb. Better yet, she thought, looking at the four girls sitting close together, to be hung for the entire flock.

Tazi came to Tanda. “Are you well, Tanda?”

“Yes. Tired a little.”

Tazi looked at her in surprise and Tanda laughed. “What, I’m not supposed to get tired?”

“I saw what you did last night! You came alone against three of them!”

“One ran, one you and the boy killed and one I killed. And then, Tazi, I ran.”

“At the Hostigi. To warn them.”

Tanda sighed. “I ran, Tazi, because I thought they were Zarthani or Mexicotál troops. I was going to cut my way through them and keep going.”

Tanda decided to change the subject. “That was a very cute Hostigi cavalryman walking with you the last palm width.”

Tazi blushed.

“He told me some amazing things!” Tazi replied, lifting her chin.

“Tazi, I am not your mother or your father. You must face the fact that you are now a woman alone. You had better stop to think carefully before a pleasant face and shared danger lead you to places you should go only slowly.”

Tazi stuck out her tongue. “You sound like my father!”

“I told you who I am, Tazi. You know me. A spinster by the lights of the village. A woman who does things most women don’t. But, even so, I’m not stupid. And while I’m not your mother or father, I am your friend. And a friend, Tazi, helps with advice.

“That young man may be very nice and very suitable. All know how well the High King rewards his soldiers. Six hundred paces of the finest land, in exchange for a promise to repay a small debt and a promise to marry. More to corporals and sergeants! Oh, you could do far, far worse! Still, take your time, girl!”

“They say that Lord Tuck and the four girls with him are from the High King’s homeland.” Tazi too, it seemed, wanted to change the subject.

“Oh? The Winter Kingdom?” Tanda asked, wishing Tazi would shut up. Then cursed herself for asking the question. If one of those girls had blurted out the Paratime Secret to Tazi, Tazi too would have to die–even if neither the girl nor Tazi knew it was secret or its importance.

“Well, Hestius said it was confusing. Lord Tuck says they are from here. But he knows many of the same things the High King does and has weapons like the High King did. Hestius saw Lord Tuck fight, Tanda! He says he fights like a whirlwind! His rifle can shoot many bullets, one right after another!”

Tazi was treading awfully close to the Paratime Secret, too close. Close enough that Tanda had to say something to get the girl to change the subject.

“One of the four is pregnant,” Tanda said. “Is this Lord Tuck the husband?”

That confused Tazi. “Pregnant? No, Hestius said Lord Tuck was their teacher. That they are daughters of nobles that were in his care.”

“She is with child. The second tallest one.”

“Elspeth,” Tazi stumbled over the unfamiliar name and pronunciation.

Tanda shrugged. “I will find out who the father is. Right now, Tazi, you need to spend some time resting.”

“And you too, eh, Tanda?” Tazi asked, a sly grin on her face.

“In a bit,” Tanda told her.

In this distance, a series of flashes were visible, on a distant peak.

Tanda walked over to Gamelin and the sergeant. Not too surprisingly, Lord Tuck was there too.

II

Gamelin watched the heliograph repeat his message back to him. He sighed and turned to Vosper. “A palm width until Count Errock sees it, another palm width until he sends back. Put two men watching for the signal, Sergeant.”

“Yes, Lord. I think, though, this message will fly on wings of the fastest bird. I doubt if you will have to wait even a single palm width, sir.”

Tuck had been standing close. Gamelin knew Tuck understood a fair amount, and was learning more as rapidly as he could. Gamelin waved at the flashing heliograph, perhaps ten miles away. “My Lord commands, I obey, you understand?”

Tuck nodded. “Girls can’t ride further. One day, perhaps two of rest. Can walk, but not far, not fast.”

Gamelin cursed to himself. What if Count Errock ordered him back to Outpost at best possible speed? What if the count ordered him to leave the refugees behind? How, as an officer of the High King, was he going to react to an order to leave women, children, including a newborn babe, to the Mexicotál chasing them? To abandon possible fellow countrymen of the High King?

Tuck waved a feather he’d found somewhere along the trail, an eagle feather. “Feather.” Tuck hefted it. “Light.”

“ _Feder, leicht_ ,” Gamelin agreed.

“ _Pflict, schwer als geberge. Todt leicht als feder._ ”

Duty, heavy as mountains. Death light as a feather. Gamelin’s throat went dry. Tuck understood a very great deal and not just words.

Gamelin saw Tanda Havra standing, listening. There was another one who understood much.

“Tanda Havra,” Gamelin spoke her name and the woman looked at him, her face an expressionless mask.

“Your people seem to be doing well, Tuck’s girls, though, aren’t. Please, could you help them?” he asked her.

The woman stared at him unblinking for several heartbeats, and then turned her gaze on Tuck.

“ _Bitte_ ,” Tuck replied. Please.

The woman shrugged turned and started for the girls, with Tuck a few paces to her right.

Gamelin saw a small smile on Vosper’s face as they watched them go. “What, sergeant?”

“That one,” the sergeant indicated Tanda Havra, “she’s as tough as it gets. Judybondi and Elspeth,” he grinned again. “They are also very tough. It will be like taking three hungry cats, dipping them in cold water, then fish oil, and putting them all in the same sack.”

“You have a twisted mind, Vosper,” Gamelin told the sergeant. “I didn’t need that on my conscience.”

“Oh, you had a good idea, as good as any.”

In the distance, the mountaintop relay post began to flash back.

“Not even half a palm’s breadth!” Vosper said.

Count Errock sent three questions. How many enemy had they actually seen? How many were now in his party and how fast were they able to move?

As he’d done for the first message, Gamelin wrote it down, then changed words, adding and subtracting, until he was sure he had what he wanted...just he didn’t spend half the night thinking about it this time.

“I don’t think Count Errock’s going to like the long block in the middle about our scouts that you sent east,” Vosper said, reading the message.

“It needs to be said clearly. It is possible those men still live, Sergeant. The part I worry about is telling him I lost either one man in six of my patrol or one in four, but I don’t know which.”

“Lieutenant, Tanda Havra heard cannon fire at Mogdai. Many cannon. That isn’t something a roving patrol of Zarthani or Mexicotál, particularly not Mexicotál, would have with them. Returning when we did was the right decision.”

Vosper laughed, then.

“What, Sergeant?”

“Oh, three summers ago. There was a junior lieutenant leading his first patrol from Outpost. He got down here, below the Barrier, about five or six miles north of here; it was the fourth day of the patrol. He decided that he’d had a dream omen from Galzar himself. The Mexicotál had come, he told us. He ordered us to return to Outpost. I messaged Count Errock for orders.

“’Come back,’ I was told. So I didn’t push the yellow-belly coward off a high cliff. Instead, Count Errock dispatched another patrol, right then. When we got back, Count Errock put that lieutenant in a cell in the keep. When the patrol returned, Count Errock had the officer paraded in front of the garrison, slathered in chicken grease, and then he put the man on a wagon, east. Wearing just the chicken grease.”

All knew that Count Errock was a hard man, a former enemy of the High King. For all that Errock had been an enemy, he was known as an honorable man, a worshipper of Galzar and the other true gods.

His former allies were not honorable men, and eventually he joined the High King and was made a captain-general, and eventually was ennobled. The new count agreed to accept a county from the High King. That county had been a new town in the west, called Outpost.

Gamelin grimaced as he remembered where he was. If the stories he’d heard were true, at least once a new officer had “fallen from a cliff” while on patrol with Vosper.

“I hope I’m doing better,” Gamelin said, his voice dry.

“Oh, you are, you are, sir!” Vosper told him cheerfully. “Now, we must send the message and make sure we are ready to carry out our orders, whatever they will be.”

That was, Gamelin was sure, Vosper’s way of saying the same thing he was feeling. What were they going to do if they were ordered to return as fast as possible? Tuck’s girls were as good as any, but they could never take three more days in the saddle, much less climbing the Wall, which awaited them a half day from Outpost. It hadn’t been easy descending the Wall, and ascending it, everyone said, was as fine a way to spend a day going two miles as there was.

Not very much later, Tuck and Tanda Havra were back.

“They can’t travel,” Tanda said simply. “Tuck’s four can walk, but not far. They have very bad saddle galls on their thighs and blisters on their feet. Those of mine who rode are, if anything, in worse shape. They are too old and stubborn to complain...they just suffer, no matter what the hurt. That and their injuries are made worse by their age. They will sit on those horses without a word while they bleed to death from sores so bad most would scream in agony.

“Lieutenant, we run in the villages. Let them walk and run, sir.”

The signal mirrors began to flash again and Gamelin watched with dread. It was, if anything, worse than he imagined.

Vosper clapped Gamelin on the shoulder. “The count sent a ‘well done’ there at the end, Lieutenant.”

“And before that, he told me to do what I thought best.”

“You’re here, sir,” Vosper said reasonably. “There is no way for Count Errock to know the conditions here.”

“Tell him we won’t be able to move for two days, and will move at half speed after that.”

Tuck spoke up. “Lieutenant, if we can get a hand,” he waved towards a peak a mile or so north of them, “if you can get our gear up there, I’ll sit up there and make life miserable for anyone who tries to come at us. Your count can send a relief force and get us out.”

Gamelin shook his head. “We wouldn’t get a relief force ourselves. Count Errock says I’m on my own. He’s sending out scouts, but he can’t afford to deplete Outpost’s defenses.”

“Again, help us go north. We’ll camp where they won’t be able to get at us with horses. In two days, we’ll start north again. Maybe we'll see your scouts. Do you know of the bridge? The place where a stream cut a bridge under much rock?”

Vosper knew of it, Gamelin had only heard of it. “We can meet there, maybe,” Tuck pleaded.

Gamelin waved at Tuck. “I go and think.”

He didn’t know why he wanted to think, there never had been much of a choice. He found a small prominence that allowed him a good view in all directions, there was no point in meeting more Mexicotál or Zarthani scouts by surprise. That, and he could look down at the camp.

So many people! More than double what he’d started with! Himself and eighteen men, to guard nearly more than their number of refugees! His eyes dwelled on the small tent that Judybondi was in. Stupid! He was stupid! She understood maybe half the words Tuck did! How could he tell her how he felt, when he didn’t understand himself?

Once, at the junior officer school in Hostigos, they’d had a festival weekend. The first night most of his fellows had gotten drunk, the second night those lucky few who’d found girls were with them, while the rest drank and gambled in the barracks. Someone had spoken quietly that what the High King really wanted with the freedom of slaves and serfs and the dismemberment of the mercenary armies, was to end the nobility itself.

The man had gone on to say that the High King believed all men were created equal and the duty of the High King was to see that all men were treated equally. More than one person in the room had been mortally offended, threatening the man who’d spoken. “Kill me,” the man had said, “but you can’t kill the truth of my words.”

There might have been blows, but someone had belched, scratched and took a long pull on his jack of ale. Then he had then fallen out of his chair, spewing all of it back out. Half a dozen of them had been caught unawares. Still, several of the rest were sober enough to clear the man’s vomit from his airway, because he was starting to turn blue. A few others had gotten sick as well.

From that day to this one, Gamelin had contemplated those words. What was wrong with the idea that all men should be treated fairly? One of the many things the High King had introduced in the last half dozen years was the jury trial. You were tried by a jury of your peers. That meant special courts for nobles, another for clerics, another for artisans, and others for merchants and farmers. It was an unruly system, and there was already talk of reducing the number of kinds of juries to two: noble and common. And why not that last step, eh?

If the High King truly believed that all men were created equal, like as not, that’s what they believed where he came from. That meant that there were no nobles where Lord Kalvan had come from. What about where Judybondi came from?

He decided that some things you just have to have spelled out for you.

III

Judy sat down on the sleeping bag in the small tent she was sharing with Becky, and then stretched out on her side, trying to arrange her limbs so that the pain was at a minimum.

Becky sighed and looked over at her. “Would you think I was a total wimp if I took a couple of aspirin?”

“No.” Judy paused, and then spoke again. “Except aspirin makes your blood thinner, so it won’t clot as quick. That might be a bad idea if we have to ride more tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Becky said, her voice stiff. “I know I have to, but I don’t think I can...”

“Rest, Becky. Sleep. If you still can’t bear it when you wake up, then think about aspirin.”

Becky closed her eyes and almost at once was asleep.

I should do that, Judy thought. I really should.

She should also be learning the language. Was Tuck sleeping now? Judy didn’t think so...he was probably talking to Gamelin or Vosper. And he rode all the time; he wasn’t hurting like the rest of them.

She remembered Vosper, looking around, then waving at Tanda Havra standing a considerable distance away from the others. “Please, she must get her people ready to move out. Tell her to do it.”

That was a concept entirely too familiar to Judy by then, and she had gone over and passed on the message without thinking about it.

She’d seen the anger in the woman’s eyes. Tanda Havra’s face might not be expressive, but when she got angry her eyes glowed. Judy smiled to herself. The last couple of days, since they were brought here, she’d helped Tuck. Some of that help had been passing on orders, occasionally giving the orders herself. None had really objected, except maybe Elspeth, who objected and then did what she’d been told to do. Or maybe it was because Judy had managed to ask nicely enough?

She was dreaming, hovering in a room. Her school, she thought. She looked around, yes! The cafeteria, but set up with all chairs, instead of tables! There was a group of people at a podium, speaking to the roomful of people.

After the last speaker finished, it was her father who rose to speak. Rose to shout, Judy thought. She couldn’t hear the words, she couldn’t hear any of the words, but she could see the anger in her father’s face, she could see his fist punching the air, to make his point.

One of the speakers said something that was probably intended to be calming; instead it set her father off like a volcano. In mid-tirade her father stopped, a surprised look on his face. He looked down at his chest, then simply dropped to the ground.

People rushed to his assistance. Judy could remember one of them looking up at the man who’d been speaking at the podium, then shaking his head. The man who’d shaken his head was Mr. MacGregor, her teacher.

There was a faint rustle and Judy opened her eyes and saw Gamelin leaning into the tent. “Judybondi,” he whispered quietly, “awake?”

She shook sleep from her mind. “Yes. A little.”

“Talk?” he asked.

“Sure.” Anything was better than dreams like the one she’d been having.

She dragged herself outside. The sun was already making the rocks on the ground uncomfortable to touch. The tent was impossible to sleep in, an oven in the baking sun. She shook Becky as she crouched just outside. After a second, Becky cracked an eye.

“What?”

“It’s like an oven in here. Grab your sleeping bag and find some shade outside. It’ll be cooler.”

Becky nodded and started to get up. Judy went outside. Elspeth and Lydia were lying under the canvas fly that Judy had seen earlier; Judy pointed Becky that way and her friend went to join the others.

Judy smiled slightly. A few feet away, in the very spare shade a rock made, Tuck was sitting, his hat pulled down over his eyes. There were some of the local Indians under another piece of canvas, not far away. Tanda Havra was sitting against a rock, her eyes wide open, looking around.

Her eyes are like radar, Judy thought. Does she ever sleep? She was the complete opposite of Tuck, yet absolutely the same.

Gamelin walked a few feet and dipped down into a small gully. For the first time Judy felt nervous, but he simply stooped, used his knife on what looked like a yucca cactus, slicing off a few of the succulent leaves. He deftly stripped the needle at the tip of the leaf off, pulling away the skin, kind of a like an onion. He handed one to Judy, and sucked on the other himself.

Judy sucked on it tentatively. It was wet, anyway. The taste was a little on the acrid side. It needed, she thought, sugar. Gamelin walked a little further, to a small hillock that looked over the camp, and the surrounding area. It wasn’t in the shade.

He pointed at her. “ _Du_. Understand?”

Tuck had made the point early on. _Se_ was the formal word; _du_ was used between friends or parents to kids.

“Yes,” Judy told him.

He tapped himself on the chest. “ _Du oder se_?”

That took her aback. He was asking her if she thought of him as a friend, or a stranger.

“ _Du_.”

He smiled. “Friends?”

She nodded.

“Friends no lie, right?”

“Friends don’t lie,” Judy said, trying to speak carefully.

“ _Heimat_ , where you from...Are there _ehe_?”

Judy shivered, even if she was standing in the late morning sun. How in the world did she get into a political discussion here? And so fast?

“No,” he’d asked about lying, Judy didn’t even think about saying something different.

“Other places, yes,” Judy went on. “But not...” She hit the wall trying to explain real. They finally settled on the word “ _wertful_.” Judy hoped that was right...she thought so.

Gamelin waved at the part of the camp where a handful of his people were sleeping under the canvas tents, set up as sunshades instead of tents. “They don’t understand. Not bad, but not understand. High King Kalvan...” he stopped talking, looking embarrassed. “You are from his land.”

Judy smiled. “I don’t know any High Kings. There are none in my land.”

Gamelin shrugged. “I think about it.”

He looked at her piercingly for a moment. “You hurt.”

Judy laughed and said in English, “Every inch, in every way!”

He might not have understood the words, but he knew what she meant. Gamelin pointed to the fly. “Sleep!”

Judy nodded, then said, “And you?” using the word ‘ _du’_ for you.

He laughed. “Me too!”

Judy walked back to the tent, gathered up her sleeping bag. There really wasn’t enough room under the fly, so she walked a few feet, closer to where Tuck was still apparently dozing, and a slightly smaller patch of shade. She spread her bag out on the ground and arranged herself.

She hardly gotten settled when Tuck spoke, without even tipping his hat back. “Pull in your foot, Judy, or in an hour your ankle will be toast.”

Judy looked down and saw that the sun was indeed shining on her ankle and foot. She pulled it in and checked herself again. Yep! Everything in the shade, and would likely stay that way for an hour or so. She closed her eyes and slept.


	9. A Battle

I

It was late afternoon when Judy finally woke up all the way. She hadn’t dreamed again, which, considering the dream she’d had before, was a good thing. But she was also aware she’d woken up every few minutes. Several times she’d moved slightly, twice she’d gotten up and moved her sleeping bag as the shade moved with the sun.

She knew she wasn’t going back to sleep, even if it was the heat of the afternoon. Tuck was off talking to Gamelin again and her friends were awake, sitting under the fly and talking quietly among themselves. Elspeth sat inert, a few feet away, looking down, staring at the ground.

There was room for her, so she went and joined the others. There wasn’t much talking, they mainly sat together, glad for the familiar faces. The afternoon wore on, and the sun was getting close to the horizon when Tuck and Gamelin started towards the group of girls.

Judy stood up and so did Elspeth. After a second, the others did too.

“How are you doing?” Tuck asked Judy.

Judy glanced around. “I suppose we could ride if we had to, again. But...”

“But it would be hard,” Tuck responded. “How about walking?”

Judy grimaced. “Our feet aren’t in good shape, either. Becky’s shoes aren’t holding up.”

“In terrain like this, odds are yours and mine will last for a while,” Tuck told Judy. “The others, with the fabric uppers...they won’t last.”

He talked to Gamelin then, who shrugged. Gamelin beckoned to one of his men, who came quickly. Judy wasn’t entirely sure what he told the man, but one name stood out: Tanda Havra.

Sure enough, she had been sent for. Tuck explained about shoes for three of the girls. Tanda Havra frowned. It took some time to figure that while she had a deerskin, they hadn’t had time to prepare it right. So it too was going to wear out faster than it should. Tanda Havra turned to Gamelin and said something, again too quick for Judy to keep up with.

Vosper, the sergeant, joined them and he said something to Gamelin. It was, Judy found, very frustrating to stand and listen to people talk and only understand about one word in four, and usually the word she understood was “the.”

“She says,” Tuck told Judy, understanding her frustration, “that if she can hunt tonight, she will kill another deer. With a few days of better preparation, she can do something that will bear up. Gamelin isn’t wild about letting her wander around...it’s dangerous out there and even more so getting back into camp.”

Judy frowned, but Elspeth beat her to the question. “Why’s that?” Elspeth asked.

“The guards are scared and nervous. They are on guard duty at night with loaded weapons, terrified of an attack. The Mexicotál like to sneak up and kidnap enemies. They are fond of torture. You and Judy know about that.”

“Also,” Gamelin said, speaking slowly, using simple words, “she is to Mogdai people, as Tuck to you. She knows much about plants.”

“Ask if she has anything for,” Judy motioned to her thighs, where the worst of the galls were.

Tanda Havra chuckled lightly and nodded. She turned, and in a most unfeminine fashion, stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Over in the villager’s camp, a girl about Elspeth’s age perked up and came at a run.

Words went back and forth very fast, Judy was quite sure that Gamelin didn’t understand anything either.

Vosper turned to Judy. “You go with this girl, Judybondi. Take something to carry with. Find good plants.”

Judy nodded and a moment later she was walking with the village girl, towards the little eminence where she and Gamelin had been earlier. Judy had long since emptied everything out of her purse, right now the only thing she had in it was her canteen.

The other girl was lighter-skinned than Tanda Havra, about Lydia’s color. Like Tanda, the girl was medium height and thin and was wearing long pants of something like doeskin and a blouse made out of what looked like cotton, with a doeskin vest with ties to keep it shut.

She set a brisk pace that Judy couldn’t begin to match. The other saw that, grinned and slowed down. A moment later, she pointed to the same plant that Gamelin had cut a bit from before, and they’d sucked on the leaves. The girl bent down, used a much smaller knife than Judy’s to cut a stem. She mimed how to take off the tip, then showed rubbing between her thighs.

Judy could understand that. Judy saw another plant of the same kind a few feet away, pulled her own knife and started slicing leaves. In about a half hour, Judy’s purse was full. The other girl tentatively reached out and touched Judy’s knife lightly with her fingertips.

“You kill Mexicotál?” the girl asked.

Judy nodded.

“They kill my mother, my father, others of Mogdai who stayed to fight. It is good you kill one. I am Tazi. One day, I kill many Mexicotál!”

Once again Judy was at a loss. This was so different than home! Yet, it struck a chord inside her. Until the last few hundred years, and in fact, in great parts of her world still, many people lived like Tazi and those in Tazi’s village. Simple folk who dreamed of being left alone to till their fields and raise their families. All too often, others from far away would come to take it away from them.

They returned to the camp. Tuck and one of Gamelin’s men had put up the big tent while they were gone. Judy and Tazi led the other girls inside, and for the next half hour, liberally daubed the badly chafed galls with stuff from the plants.

It did feel cool and nice and Judy made a point of telling the others which plant it was that it came from.

When they came back out, Tuck met them, alone this time.

“I don’t want to kid you, we’re in a serious situation. The bad guys know someone is here, scouting them out. They have almost certainly found our trail. The question is, are they coming right after us, or, because we’re headed away, maybe they don’t care?

“Frankly, if it was up to me, I’d have my people flogging their horses trying to catch up, even if I was pretty sure that we would have reported in by now. But, if they had done that, we’d have seen signs of that this afternoon. Our host, Gamelin, had people up on the ridge from first light and they haven’t seen anyone following us.

“Which isn’t to say that they aren’t coming. They could easily just be taking it slowly and careful. They have to know they’ve lost a couple of small patrols entirely. Maybe that’s making them cautious. There’s just no way to tell.”

He waved at the big tent. “This is a risk. If they come at us in a hurry, we’re going to have to scoot with the least possible delay. We’ll lose the tent and a lot of gear. On the other hand, it gives you all a central place to sleep tonight–and while I don’t think it’s going to rain today, tomorrow and the next couple of days look like there will be a chance of afternoon thunderstorms.”

Judy looked around. To the northeast, large billowing cumulus clouds were towering. There were smaller ones north and northwest of them, too.

“I’ve talked to Gamelin and he had his sergeant send men out ahead of us. About a mile that way,” he pointed to the northeast, “around the curve of this mountain, is a better spot to camp. It’s a little higher, but not much. It will be an easy ride, and so we’re going to try an experiment: the four of you sitting sidesaddle. You’ll have to be careful not to fall, but if you can do the distance tomorrow, we’ll be in a much better spot.”

Tuck waved towards where the villagers were sitting, talking amongst themselves. “I might add, the villagers aren’t used to riding either. They will be walking, and I’m told they can do it all day, every day. We will see; I hope so.

“So rest. We are going to fix supper here shortly. With this many people to feed, we will go through the food I brought along pretty quick. We’ll eat up what Gamelin’s troops brought along in a day or two beyond that. There will be venison tonight and if Tanda Havra, the woman who is leading the villagers, has any luck tonight, maybe venison tomorrow.

“Not all of you are drinking enough. Gamelin has people who will see to it that your canteens are filled, plus he has some water jacks that hold four or five gallons each and I have two plastic water jugs that hold five gallons each. We will have those filled. If you empty your canteen during the day, you can get a refill. There is plenty of water on this side of the mountains, so don’t worry about it. Becoming dehydrated, that you have to worry about.”

“What happened to Mrs. Flowers?” Becky asked.

“I don’t know. I looked and I think she was grabbed by some of the same people who brought us here. Those people didn’t seem very friendly. I think they knocked everyone in the camp out, also not a very friendly thing...but if they did, they could have come in and taken us. I haven’t a clue why they didn’t. I’m thinking it wouldn’t have been a good thing, if they had.

“I know a few things now that I didn’t before. About a dozen years ago a man appeared here, from someplace else. Someone, I suspect, a lot like us. I think he was a cop, from the descriptions I’ve heard about the gear he was wearing. These people didn’t know how to make gunpowder. A bunch of priests from a religion were making it, they kept it as a monopoly, telling everyone it was made special for them by their god, a fellow called Styphon. They use that god’s name these days as a curse word.

“This man is named Kalvan, he’s their High King these days. Think Emperor. He had a revolver with him. He taught them to make gunpowder, he taught them how to beat their enemies in a stand-up fight. He’s probably quite something, I’m sure. I think I’ve gotten them to accept that we don’t know him, that we’re not direct kin of their king. But they think we’re his fellow countrymen...hell, maybe they are right. Anyway, Kalvan, who is now emperor of most of what used to be the United States, arrived on the eve of a big war. Some peasant farmers took him in, welcoming him and fed him. In repayment he helped them fight off raiders.

“To make a long story short, he fought his way to the top, here. He says that he’s from what they call the ‘Winter Kingdom,’ Gamelin points that out on a map where either the Korean or Khamchatka peninsulas are; I’m not sure which. Their maps have only one peninsula, where ours have two. The Winter Kingdom is the fabled home of their ancestors, who came here about a thousand years before the time of Christ in our world. They’ve never heard of Jesus. Or of Mohammad or Buddha or Yahweh, the God of the Old Testament. Their maps don’t show anything on the other side of the Atlantic...it’s terra incognita. Except for the corner of Asia around this Winter Kingdom, Asia’s all blank too.

“We traveled in some sort of vehicle,” Tuck told them. “I don’t know what kind, it’s just an impression I have. They didn’t look like the Lords of Creation, they behaved more like cockroaches.”

He stopped talking and looked around. No one was close. “I can’t make you do what I ask, but I’m thinking the people we are with are pretty superstitious. I don’t think talking about coming here in a vehicle would be a good idea. Our friends favor two-wheeled carts, four wheels are considered new-fangled.”

Everyone laughed. It was a good thing, Judy thought, for Tuck to tell a joke. It relieved a lot of tension.

“These people believe in magic and sorcery. According to Gamelin, an evil sorcerer was jealous of their High King and this evil sorcerer conjured up a big spell and tossed Kalvan here, forever banished.”

Elspeth snorted.

Tuck pointed his finger at her. “Elspeth, tell me, how did we get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t either. I think it was technology of some sort. Slipping between alternate universes, maybe. I have to think that if I was someone from an alternate universe and there were some people capable of spilling the beans, I might decide to eliminate them. So, if Gamelin’s people are comfortable with magic and sorcery, then that’s what I think they should hear.

“They call my van a ‘magic wagon.’ I haven’t said aye or nay. Tell them the truth, leaving out only a few details that we don’t understand. We were traveling across the desert in my van. I was there to teach you about the desert. There was a flash of light and then we were here. We don’t know what happened, not at all. You don’t know what happened. Keep the explanation simple. Flash of light, then bang, we’re here. A few seconds in the middle...I bet if we were to compare notes, we would all remember different things.

“The most important thing about that story is that it’s true. You can tell it as best as you can, leaving out any speculations on your part as to what happened and it will be true, and will tally with what the rest of us have to say. Don’t speculate! We don’t know what happened, and we’d be guessing. I’m guessing guessing is dangerous.” Everyone smiled at that.

“Oh, yeah. They think you’re the daughters of nobility,” Tuck concluded.

Judy considered that, and then decided it was too important, so she interrupted to ask her question. “Tuck, Gamelin asked me some questions today. About what it was like at home. I told him that we didn’t have nobles.”

Tuck grimaced, and then looked around, obviously uneasy. “Lies are a terrible thing. For one thing, it’s easy to contradict yourself and then everyone knows you’re lying and you lose credibility. These people might not have jet planes, radios and IBM computers, but that doesn’t mean they are stupid. Credibility is an incredibly important asset in any civilization.

“If someone asks you a direct question, tell the truth. Try to keep your answers simple and limited, but don’t lie. Omit things, like that flash of light and what we saw, but don’t lie. They have a king. I don’t think they will take lightly to the idea of an elected president.”

“Tuck,” Judy interrupted him, “Gamelin seemed impressed with the idea of everyone being equal.”

He smiled at her. “The problem with that is that’s not how things are done here. The sort of person who seeks to change the established order is called a revolutionary. I would be very careful about such things, because it’s going to be easy to make mistakes. Mistakes like that can get a lot of people killed, including you. And the rest of us.”

There was a stir in the rest of the camp. Judy turned to look and saw heliograph flashing from the same mountain as that morning.

“Make sure you are ready to go first thing in the morning,” Tuck told them, “for that matter, if you’re ready to go in an instant, that’s better. Relax, rest. Think about dinner.”

He walked towards Gamelin and Judy simply followed along behind him.

II

Gamelin watched the flashes in the distance. He’d missed the first half dozen letters, but they’d be repeated soon enough.

Vosper stood at his shoulder. “So, Eukarnas and Leucritis survived,” the sergeant said.

“And did the job we should have done,” Gamelin said, his voice bitter. “They saw the enemy host and counted them. They saw which way they were moving.”

Vosper laughed nastily. “A great host, ranging towards Outpost. If you will recall, that’s what we reported this morning.”

“Eukarnas says fifty thousand Zarthani cavalry.”

Vosper snorted and spat on the ground. “Nary a word about Mexicotál. Tanda Havra says the Mexicotál attacked Mogdai. Hestius says he was attacked by Zarthani scouts, but twice we’ve run into Mexicotál scouts.”

“She also said that the attackers used rifles and cannon. The Mexicotál don’t have cannon and not very many muskets, and far fewer rifles,” Gamelin retorted.

“Well, the Mexicotál who attacked Judybondi and Elspeth had muskets; the Mexicotál scouts who attacked Tanda’s villagers had muskets,” Vosper observed. “It is very confused.”

Vosper waved towards the mountain, where the signalmen on the distant peak were repeating the message. “We reported what we saw and heard, Lieutenant. I don’t doubt Eukarnas and Leucritis saw what they saw, but I doubt if they were placidly waiting for that great host to march past their position so they could count them. I think they saw a column of the force arrayed against Outpost and then headed east as fast as their feet would carry them.”

Gamelin nodded. What reason would the village woman have for lying about who had attacked Mogdai? Actually, in a few heartbeats, he could think of a couple of reasons.

Tuck spoke, he’d been listening. “I can’t make you do things, and I can’t tell your count what to do. But if he’s smart, he’ll scout your enemy, their numbers and where they are. You know, if there are as many as the reports say, you can kill them all, fairly easily.”

Gamelin snorted in derision, but Vosper was more cautious. “What do you mean?”

“Soldiers eat,” Tuck said and Gamelin nodded.

“Fifty thousand horses eat more,” Tuck added. He waved around them. “From where comes food for men, for horses?”

Vosper sucked in air, while Gamelin was still just curious. “I don’t understand,” Gamelin asked.

Gamelin knew the rule that a horse ate five times what a man ate, in a day. You just put five times as many wagons carrying hay as flour. Elementary.

Tuck chuckled. “Find road, find good spot. Block road. Kill livestock, break road. What horses eat? What men eat? What guns shoot? The more here, the worse, if road cut.”

Gamelin’s eyes bulged in sheer amazement. Not possible! It couldn’t be so simple!

Vosper’s eyes were gleaming. “We should let them come against Outpost. Then cut the road. And kill them all!”

“That would be...stupid,” was all Gamelin could manage. Words didn’t describe it. “Guards, many soldiers along road. Guards with wagons.”

Tuck grinned, it wasn’t a pleasant grin. “Long road. Many spots to cut. Burn bridges. Push rocks down on road. Attack rest spots. Many men must guard road. Many men then, not able to come to Outpost. Attack where enemy weak, where enemy not.”

“Not honorable,” Gamelin said, knowing it was a stupid thing to say.

Vosper snorted in derision. “Their man said a million men come against Outpost. Two thousand to one, Lieutenant! We might all die, but if we destroy that army...two thousand to one, Lord! Two thousand to one! I don’t want to die, but dying to kill two thousand of Styphon’s Host! Yes!”

Gamelin was suddenly lost, seeing a vision in his mind of a host of his ancestors bowing to him, the greatest warrior in the history of the Trygath.

Tuck took him by his tunic top and shook him. “Stupid!”

Gamelin opened his eyes, surprised that he’d closed them. Someone laying hands on him! A deadly insult! The words too!

“You die? What good that? You make Zarthani die! You make Mexicotál die! You make Styphon die! Don’t you die!”

It was Vosper who brought Gamelin back to sanity. “Lieutenant, Count Errock expects an answer,” the sergeant said, nodding at the mountain to the northeast.

It was like a light shown on Gamelin; he had an idea. “Tell him that we are sending Lord Tuck and a half dozen men to escort him, some of the villagers, those well enough to keep up. That Count Errock should listen to him...”

It was fast. Faster than the mind could imagine. One instant Tuck had been standing next to Gamelin, his pistol in the leather holder at his side, then the next instant, the pistol was in Tuck’s hand and the pistol was rammed into Gamelin’s throat.

“No!” Tuck said succinctly. “Not if your life is _vertvol_!”

Around Gamelin, the camp came to life, but his men were uncertain, not understanding what was happening.

Gamelin understood that he’d made a mistake. “I value it. Please, I spoke without thinking.”

It was remarkable. Tuck twirled the pistol and settled it back into the leather holder at his waist. That was really wonderful, Gamelin thought! I need a pistol like his, and I need to learn how to twirl a pistol like that! It looked very soldierly!

“Just scouting,” Tuck said, a small smile on his face.

Vosper snorted. “Scouting, eh?”

“Yes.”

“It was a stupid idea, Vosper,” Gamelin said to his sergeant. “Even if I promised to die before I would let harm fall to his charges, Lord Tuck is right. It is his duty.”

“Damn right!” Tuck said.

Gamelin wasn’t sure of the first word, but the tone sufficed.

Gamelin looked around at the men in the camp. “Lord Tuck was showing me how fast he can get his pistol into action. That was fast!”

Not many had seen the event itself, but a few had. And they started whispering almost at once. It would, Gamelin thought, have to do.

“Lieutenant, Count Errock expects an answer,” Sergeant Vosper reminded him.

“Tell him in three days, I expect to top the Wall. Galzar willing, perhaps a day sooner. Wagons would be nice, if we were met by some,” Gamelin went on. “We could move much more quickly then.”

Vosper grunted and said a dozen words to the signaler, who nodded and started flashing. When the message was done, Vosper glanced behind him at the setting sun. “Maybe Count Errock will reply tonight. Most likely, later.”

Yet, half a finger width later, the reply was flashing. Which meant that the count was standing next to the signaler back at Outpost. The message was short. “Shortest time necessary. Meet wheels at Climb 4.”

Gamelin mentally reviewed the map of the area in his head and then sighed in relief. Climb 4 was the trail he intended to take anyway.

Gamelin nodded to the signaler. “Tell them, ‘Understood. Will comply.’”

The light flashed, just as the sun was failing.

Gamelin saw Tuck was watching. How much did the foreigner understand? It seemed like every time they spoke, he would learn a dozen new words. Already he had evidence that Tuck understood quite a bit, for instance, a finger width before when Gamelin had suggested sending Tuck on ahead.

“Signal at night?” Tuck asked, gesturing.

Gamelin pointed behind him. “No sun. Mirror no work.”

“Don’t need sun,” Tuck said, “need light.” Tuck gestured at the distant signal. “Tell them wait one palm width, watch here, and write message down. Send to count first thing tomorrow.”

Vosper traded a look with Gamelin. Well, why not? Perhaps it would work. He ordered the signaler to send it. There were a few faint flashes in return, but Gamelin wasn’t sure what they meant. Maybe the message had been received, perhaps not.

“Come,” Tuck told him. “See about food. Then I show how to signal at night.”

Tuck had two kinds of food they could use. Something white, very small; also some kind of beans. They used the small white grain stuff, which, it turned out, drew in water when cooked, expanding and softening. Tanda Havra had a few of the grandmothers out gathering roots and things, and while it wasn’t the tastiest stew Gamelin had ever eaten, there was enough for everyone to have two bowls.

Later, Tuck appeared and showed Gamelin what he carried. A stubby, fat candle, and what looked to be a steel bowl. Once again, Gamelin could only marvel at such a thing. The workmanship was exquisite and the shine on the bowl was beyond compare and again, there were no signs of the smith's hammer anywhere to mar the finish.

Tuck had the signaler stand by and watch while Tuck made a flame with a small red-colored object, lighting the candle. Tuck had Gamelin hold the shiny steel bowl, while he held he candle. The bowl was pointed towards the mountain, the candle was just in front of it.

The signaler looked at it and grinned understanding. “Send,” Tuck told the trooper, “if you can read this, tell Count Errock tomorrow we show him how to send messages at night.”

The signaler repeated the message four times, covering the candle instead of wiggling the mirror. Near the middle of the last repetition, a burst of flame showed on the distant peak, waving. It was only visible for a few heartbeats, before it went out.

“They understood,” Gamelin said, his breath hushed.

“Two things,” Tuck told him. “Light bad at night, can see long ways, once it’s dark.”

That was true, that’s why they didn’t have a fire after sunset. But mirror flashes were just as visible during the day.

“Second, if enemy not know about signals before, will know soon. Must not send message simple to read.”

It took the better part of a palm width for Tuck to get the idea across to Gamelin. You moved the letters of the alphabet around and sent what looked like gibberish. But if both ends of the message knew how the alphabet was scrambled, then it was still a message. It took longer to send and receive, you had to write down everything, letter by letter, and then translate it. But it was clever, very clever!

III

Tanda Havra watched the Hostigi and Tuck talk, saw the message go out, using a candle as a light source and the outtime mixing bowl as a reflector.

She stood just outside the circle of light, while Tuck explained codes and silently shook her head. Lord Kalvan had been careful, starting with big things. She wasn’t sure about Tuck, but he was starting out with simple things. Simple things that were big, in their own way.

Finally she walked into the light. “I am going hunting,” she told Lieutenant Gamelin.

“Careful of the guards when you come back,” Gamelin told her. “We will have four tonight, each walking a side of the camp. All have been told your name, use it when you come back.”

She shook her head. “If the Mexicotál come, they will slit your throats as you sleep,” she said with certainty.

“Perhaps and perhaps not,” Gamelin told her. “We have inner pickets as well.”

She sniffed and then faded into the night. The Mexicotál probably would not come, not against so many. But you never knew.

She walked quickly away from the camp, down the ridge the way they’d come the day before. She moved further along the ridge before slowing for a finger width, and then speeded up. She reached the spot she’d seen the day before and changed to a lope. It was a small interior basin, perhaps a mile across. She went half way around the rim, then stopped and stood stock still, listening.

There was no sound, nothing at all. Even the night animals were quiet, as they had easily heard her approach. After a full finger width of silence, she walked downhill for two hundred steps, pausing and listening with every other step. Then back uphill, until she was a few feet from the path she’d taken earlier.

She watched for nearly a palm width, making sure there was no one on her back trail. She’d dozed lightly during the wait, something she could do often during the day, enough to keep her strength up.

She put the band in her hair. “Manny?”

“Sergeant of the Watch, Nikkie Hosh, Tanda. How are you doing?”

“Okay, Nikkie. I need to speak to Chief Hadron. I’m to report directly to her.”

The Paracop sergeant laughed. “I saw that memo. You now move in very rarified air, Tanda. That’s not a good place to be.”

“Please, Nikkie.”

“Like I said, I read the memo. As soon as I heard you, I buzzed her.”

It took only a short while for the chief to come to the communicator. Once again Tanda sat in silence, listening to the night as she waited.

“This is the Chief,” the now familiar voice said.

“Chief, we are slowly making our way towards Outpost. The four outtime girls are having the usual acclimation problems to riding horseback for extended periods, but are adapting well. A couple of the girls are learning the language. Tuck is learning the language very fast.”

The chief replied carefully. “We found the origin timeline, very close to Kalvan’s own. Hispano-Columbian sub-sector and all of that. William Tucker was formerly a captain of Special Forces in the Vietnam conflict, and the girls are students at a school a friend of Tucker’s taught at. They were to spend the weekend in the desert learning about the desert and desert survival. Tucker’s friend and the male students returned when they realized they’d lost contact with the others.

“It has made a major hue and cry, obviously. Tucker would not have a warm welcome if he were to return...the families have assumed the worst about what has happened to their daughters.”

“He’s very competent, very careful. He’s totally devoted to keeping those girls safe. He’s upset because two of them vanished, two that Lieutenant Gamelin and his men almost cheered after they vanished,” Tanda reported.

“Well, they haven’t shown up back on the origin timeline. I don’t expect they will, either.”

Tanda nodded to herself. “Earlier, Tuck was showing them how to signal after dark, using a candle and a steel bowl. Then he told them about transposition codes.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then a harsh laugh. “When you said transposition, I was thinking about something else. Continue to observe and report.”

“Can you find out if there are significant numbers of Mexicotál near our location?” Tanda asked.

“I could, but I won’t. Just like the High King doesn’t know of the invasion of his lands, just yet. It’s a painful thing, Tanda Havra, but it’s necessary.”

“Yes, Chief. Observe and report. Tanda Havra, out!”

“Hadron Dalla, out!” the other said.

Tanda took the piece of silver out of her hair and stuck it once again in her belt pouch. You don’t know it yet, Chief Hadron, but when this is over, I’m going to report to Psych Division and let them do a number on me. Zap my memories, because she couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. Everything Home Time Line touched was soiled, spoiled and rotten.

Better to become a simple village woman, living out her life as a spinster, ignorant of anything otherwise. Knowledge had once seemed like a precious thing to her, to be gathered in like the herbs she dealt in. But the more she learned, the more what Home Time Line was doing here turned her stomach. And it wasn’t just here, it was up and down the timelines.

Home Time Line traded on some of the higher levels, but they were out here everywhere possible, stealing art and cultural artifacts, they stole knowledge, and history. Medicines and plants. Everything they had, since Ghaldron and Hesthor had discovered paratemporal transposition, had been stolen. Home Time Line science had all but stopped. It was outtimers who discovered faster than light travel. It was outtimers who were steadily advancing their culture and civilizations, while the Home Time Line simply stole and stole and stole.

Tanda spent a finger width calming herself, wiping all of the emotions and anger from her system, before she set out again. She was tired, she knew it. Time to find her quarry, and then return. And sleep. She definitely needed some real sleep.

When dawn broke, she was dozing a few feet from the lieutenant, who was sleeping soundly. He woke up, looked around and saw Tanda, her back against a buck and a doe, as she slept.

Gamelin nudged his sergeant with a foot and nodded at Tanda. Vosper’s face darkened with anger.

Tanda opened her eyes laughed at his expression. “I told you, if the Mexicotál had come last night, they’d have slit your throats in your sleep.”

“Two deer? How did you sneak through the guards with two deer on your back?”

“I didn’t. I made two trips,” she told him.

“You walked into a guarded camp, twice, carrying a deer each time?” Gamelin shook his head in amazement.

“Your guards meet at the corners. They wait for each other, to pass a few words. There is a long time for someone to come through. It wasn’t hard at all.”

There was light enough now, to see well. Well enough for one of the pickets to come running up. “Lieutenant, there are about twenty Zarthani cavalry, about a mile, over there!” the picket pointed and added, “they are coming this way!”

“Get everyone up and ready to go. Load what we can. Vosper, every other man with me! We’ll go to the next camp site–it’s far more defensible!”

Tanda ran lightly to the villagers and told them to go. They were up almost at once and moving a few heartbeats later. She told Tazi to go with them and return to her, when the others were safe.

Then Tanda turned to help Tuck’s girls get ready. She was surprised. They were up and even though obviously in discomfort, they were packing quickly. Judybondi was knocking the tent down, while some of Gamelin’s troopers were loading the girls' things aboard horses.

It took a few heartbeats, then Tanda realized what she hadn’t seen: Tuck.

She went to Judybondi. “Where Tuck?”

The girl looked at her, then nodded in the direction the Zarthani were. “There. He will stop them.”

Tanda nodded and looked around. Breaking camp was well in hand. Her people were moving, and Tuck’s girls were nearly ready. She turned and ran like the wind, back towards the obvious place a defense would take place.

Only to find it empty. She was startled and looked around, wondering where Tuck and the guards who had to be here had gone.

She saw them, about two hundred yards ahead. Only very good eyes could have seen them, she thought. It took nearly a finger width of searching, in fact, after she’d seen one of the guards move, to see where Tuck was. And it wasn’t because he was moving.

Tanda nodded in admiration. It wasn’t an obvious spot to conduct an ambush, so in that, it was good.

Gamelin appeared, with Vosper and a dozen of his men. “Where is Tuck?” Gamelin asked.

“There,” Tanda pointed to where Tuck was sitting on the ground, nearly invisible next to a rock.

Gamelin made a face. “That is a terrible spot for an ambush! There’s no real cover, if they have to withdraw!”

Tanda kept her mouth shut; it was Vosper who spoke. “In a close ambush, yes. But I don’t think that’s Lord Tuck’s plan.”

Vosper called to the men softly. “Check your weapons, be careful. In a finger width Tuck and our pickets will pass through our lines. Don’t shoot them! Don’t shoot anything, until Lord Gamelin tells you to!”

He then directed the men, individually into position. It was, Tanda thought, quite competently done.

In the distance, a half mile away, a cluster of four plumed Zarthani officers appeared, riding in the van of their force. Behind them came two dozen troopers, riding in a column of twos on the trail.

Tuck waited until the fourth element of two appeared, then fired a single shot. One of the plumed officers at the front of the column flipped backwards, off his horse. Another shot, and another of the first four slumped forward, and then slid down to the ground, the one holding a banner.

Then Tuck fired as rapidly as possible. Of the four men in front, only one survived and his horse had gone down. In the next eight, three survived, one of them pinned by his horse.

There had been loud rifle shots and clouds of smoke from the Hostigi pickets, during Tuck’s fusillade. Oh, that was clever, Tanda thought. Very clever! Hostigi rifle fire undoubtedly covered up the different sound Tuck’s carbine made! And who would notice that there weren’t as many puffs of smoke as shots?

Twelve men had shown themselves, two-thirds were down. The survivors, quite reasonably, pulled back.

Tuck was up then, running with the pickets back towards Gamelin. Again, just one man among many, nothing in particular to remark about him, not even his hat. Well done! Tanda thought, that had been well done indeed! Perhaps a half a dozen shots had been fired by the Zarthani, but those had been futile.

In a few instants, Tuck and the pickets arrived. “They go slower!” Tuck told Gamelin.

Vosper laughed. “They go home!”

Tuck shook his head. “Their commander, I miss. They come again, slower, next time.”

Tanda contemplated that. The Zarthani patrol had just taken a third of their number as casualties in a single ambush. They had to know they had done nothing in return. Why would you push forward? Her eyes went to Gamelin. Oh! The Zarthani had young noblemen, too! And Tuck was being, very, very polite!

A single rifle shot cracked in the distance, but Tanda had already heard the bullet strike a rock and bounce into the sky.

The Hostigi officer and his men went to cover, while Tuck just stood still, watching the smoke dissipate where the shot had come from.

Tanda saw the movement, as the man rose to fire again. Tuck’s bullet was low, but close, causing the sniper to duck behind his rock. Tuck walked slowly toward Gamelin, out of the way, behind a large rock.

Another half dozen shots rang out from the Zarthani, and bullets crashed into the rocks.

Tuck reached Gamelin and grinned. “Rifle, still too far. Safest place, where they aim.”

Tuck was feeding more shells into the tube from his carbine, reloading. Tanda was close enough to hear him speak to himself in English, “I can do that nine more times. Then...”

Tanda remembered what Chief Vall had done, in a similar situation. He convinced Lord Kalvan that he should offer up his weapons as an offering to Dralm, the senior, father god of the local pantheon. Come morning, Kalvan’s weapons and clothes were gone from the temple; a miracle, the priests had averred. In fact, now souvenirs in the Paracop Museum back on the Home Time Line.

Another shot, missing the Hostigi by some distance.

Tuck stood up, walked into plain view, holding his carbine over his head, defiantly.

In the distance, a Zarthani officer appeared, a rifle in his hand. He aimed and fired. Tuck had dropped flat as soon as he saw what the other was doing. The shot took one of Hostigi troopers in the head, killing him instantly.

Tuck fired almost at once and the Zarthani officer ducked back. “I think I winged him,” Tuck said.

Almost at once, two dozen horsemen appeared, charging them head-on.

“Wait for my command to fire!” Gamelin called to the troopers. “Wait!”

Tanda ran the dozen steps to the fallen Hostigi trooper, picked up his rifle, and then dropped to one knee, next to a rock. No point in making it easy for the Zarthani!

The pounding hooves of the Zarthani were a hundred yards away, when Gamelin fired. Instantly, a dozen rifles crashed. A half dozen horses went down, two saddles were wiped clean. Another two heartbeats and another dozen rifles crashed.

Then Tuck started to fire, as the Zarthani raised their own rifles to fire a second volley. Ten shots, eight men down. When Tuck fired his last shot, Tanda added her lone shot, emptying another saddle.

The charge had halted in confusion, the one officer plume had gone down in the first volley. Tuck had his pistol up and fired another half dozen shots, killing one more and wounding another.

Suddenly, three Zarthani soldiers found themselves alone, facing an unknown enemy in an ambush that had just killed everyone around them. You could almost see them exchange terrified glances, then they were frantically whipping their horses in the other direction.


	10. Climb Every Mountain

I

Gamelin stared at the ruin that the Zarthani patrol had suffered, shaken to his core. Not even a finger width! In less than a finger width, his patrol had destroyed a Zarthani patrol, larger than his own. Gamelin glanced at his own dead trooper, sprawled on the ground a few feet away. It wasn’t the first dead man he’d seen, but it was the first man to die that he, personally, had been responsible for. It was hard to say which was more sobering: the ruin on the hillside in front of him, or the dead man a few feet away.

It hit him much harder than the realization days before that the men he’d sent south had mainly died. Those had been out of sight, they hadn’t even heard gunfire from their positions. They’d simply been swallowed in the maw of the enemy.

“Time to go,” Tuck told Gamelin, his voice harsh.

Gamelin met the stranger’s eyes. The truth: his patrol hadn’t destroyed the Zarthani. Tuck had.

He remembered then, a cold and windy evening, his father and he had been alone on one of the Saltless Seas, in a small boat. “Never lie to yourself,” his father had told him. His father pointed to the waves, marching at them in steady ranks, as far as the eye could see, which, considering the storm, wasn’t that far off. “We must run. We could try to fight, but the Witch Storms of Winter would swallow us. You must learn, my son, when it is time to fight, but first you should learn when it is better to run! And you must never tell yourself that honor forbids running, when that’s the only way to preserve it.” 

At the time, Gamelin had mistaken what his father was saying. A storm was, after all, a show of Yrttis’ anger, nature run amuck. You can’t fight nature and you certainly couldn’t fight Yrttis, the Goddess of Storms!

In the High King’s Academy for young officers, their teachers been blunt. “You’ve been taught all your lives about honor and dishonor. It isn’t wrong, what you’ve been taught, but it wasn’t right either. Death solves your problems, but it doesn’t solve the problems of the troopers you lead, the people you defend, the High King or Hostigos.

“Before you decide on an honorable death, contemplate who it will hurt. Contemplate if you could do more alive. 

“Sure, it is honorable to stand alone, to face the enemy’s champion. But what if you die? Who will lead your men? Suppose you die and there is a fight anyway? Are your men going to fight carefully or seek to avenge you? Will the man who replaces you in command be as careful of those men as you would have been? Or will he be intent on revenge for the death of a friend? Or might he look at a situation that frightens him and simply turn tail and runs?

“Death comes to us all. The question is: when and how? True honor is having people say after you’re gone, ‘He did his duty and more!’ It’s not people saying, ‘He’d died an honorable death and left the rest of us to die with nothing.”

Vosper coughed and Gamelin met his eyes. Gamelin’s order was a simple and uncomplicated. “Withdraw to the last camp.”

They pulled back, finding the original camp empty, except for the signs that they stayed for a day. They moved further back, a half mile, a quarter of the way to the new camp. After a palm width, there was still no sign of pursuit.

Gamelin pointed to Tanda Havra, who came at once. “You say your people can walk all day and do it again tomorrow?”

“Yes,” the woman said confidently.

Gamelin knew how much trouble he was going to be in for having armed a local. But he couldn’t take the weapon away from her, not with honor. He’d seen her kill a Zarthani with it.

“Then please, you and yours,” he pointed to the spot at the base of the Barrier. “Go there, where there is a trail up. Vosper, send one of the troopers who knows the way.”

Vosper nodded.

“This?” Tanda said, hefting the rifle.

“Take it to Outpost. I don’t know, given what’s happening...”

The High King was going to need every ally he could find here, perhaps this was a way to add quite a few, all at once.

Tanda bobbed her head, and then was off, running.

“We must keep going,” Gamelin told Tuck. “I know they hurt, but...”

“Better hurt than dead,” Tuck told him. “Must make do.”

It was a long day. They reached the bottom of the range and headed into the basins beyond. The scouts kept reporting that they saw no pursuit and they were keeping a careful eye out, Gamelin was sure.

Finally, Gamelin called the end of the day’s march, many palm widths earlier than he normally would have. Once again, Tuck’s charges were lethargic, going on only because they were too numb to stop.

Then it started to rain, adding to the misery of everyone, not just those tired and hurting. Thunder boomed over the hills, lightning spiked down on the hilltops, sending more thunder rolling over them.

There had been no time to erect the tents. Gamelin found Judybondi with her friends, under the fly, which was reasonably dry.

She said a few words, but it was clear that even she was exhausted. Even a few words were beyond the others, they simply lolled, barely conscious.

Tuck was there, watching them. He grinned at Gamelin. “Tomorrow, second wind,” he told Gamelin.

Gamelin didn’t understand at first, but Tuck was patient. Ah, yes! He knew second wind! Gamelin looked at the exhausted and dispirited girls. Privately, he doubted they were going to catch anything, except, perhaps, summer colds. Summer colds were the death of many.

For a short while, after dark, it cleared off, the rain and lightning stopped. He signaled, using Tuck’s candle method. To his surprise, a few heartbeats later, there was an acknowledgement and a terse command, “Continue to Outpost. E.”

Gamelin was content with that. The rain starting up again was something that could be endured.

Vosper, though, had been watching. “The Zarthani will attack the signal post, probably soon.”

Gamelin nodded. “Hopefully, they will see them come in time.”

Vosper raised an eyebrow. No, the Zarthani would send Mexicotál, men who were as good as Tanda Havra at sneaking past sentries. There would be no warning.

Gamelin turned to his signaler. “Send, ‘Dralm bless you, Galzar keep you safe. Gamelin.’”

Vosper nodded and the signaler did as bid. Vosper clapped Gamelin on the shoulder, “You would be surprised what Galzar Wolf’s Head can do, given time to prepare. They are not safe, but they will be no easy feast for the vultures!”

II

Judy struggled to sit up, to wolf down the barely warm porridge that they’d been given to eat for dinner. Rain poured down noisily; there was a curtain of water off the low end of the canvas fly. She shook herself. She had to take charge! If nothing else, of herself! She had to! Her friends depended on her!

Whoever it had been who’d supervised setting up the fly had done a good job. They had dug a trench just below where the water was pouring off the canvas. The trench collected the water, and led it about six feet away; where it simply joined a myriad of other trails of water, all heading downhill.

She focused on that. A simple thing. She printed it indelibly in her memory.

Elspeth held her plate under the water stream, letting it wash off the few remnants of her meal. She looked at Judy and grimaced. “I have to say, if that’s the punishment for not being able to keep up, tomorrow I’m going to go like gangbusters. I’d rather have blisters over every inch of my body than eat this shit again.” She waved the plate for emphasis.

“You cleaned it up pretty good,” Judy told her, laughing.

“When you’re as hungry as I am, eating for two, you don’t notice for the first half dozen mouthfuls. Then, since it’s half done anyway...momentum.”

“Eating for two?” Lydia said, showing she wasn’t as asleep as she looked.

“I’m pregnant,” Elspeth said matter-of-factly.

Lydia’s eyes went round in astonishment.

Elspeth looked at Becky. “You have anything in your box that can fix that? A clothes hanger, maybe!”

Becky crossed herself. “No, if I had something like that, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

Elspeth looked at the two shocked girls. “Let me tell you, this,” she held up her switchblade, and it snicked open. “This is a fine form of birth control. Stick it between the bastard’s ribs before he squirts his shit in you.”

“She was raped,” Judy said, trying to be as matter-of-fact as Elspeth had been.

That silenced the incipient conversation for more than an hour. The rain finally let up, and Judy got to her feet and found Gamelin, sitting with Vosper and Tuck.

“Evening,” she said.

“How are you?” Gamelin inquired, solicitously.

“Better and better,” Judy said, wishing it was true.

“I told them you would get your second wind tomorrow,” Tuck told her.

Judy wanted to laugh. Second, third, tenth...one of those times.

For more than an hour, they talked as the light faded from the sky. Judy learned a lot of new words, this time mostly from Tuck.

Finally fatigue overwhelmed her, and she went back to the fly. The others were sprawled on top of their sleeping bags. Judy joined them and was asleep almost at once.

III

Freidal, a captain of the King’s Guard First Cavalry Regiment, watched the rain drown the camp. The groans of the seven wounded men wrenched his heart, and what little shelter that remained, those men got.

Tiki, his batman, shook water from his eyes as he came and stood next to Freidal. “My Lord, they did not pursue.”

It had not really been a serious possibility, but Freidal had learned a few things quickly today. Never take anything for granted, first among them.

“Is it always like this?” he asked his batman, a graying veteran sergeant of more than twenty years service.

“My Lord, they had sharpshooters, they armed some of the villagers. I counted nearly forty shots in the volley, my Lord. Damned Hostigi! Arming the villagers! That will come to bite them in the future, I have no doubt!” Tiki was nothing if not a man of Freidal’s father.

“I don’t look forward to facing Xitki Count Quillan with my report.”

“The count is a fair man, my Lord. You had your plume shorn; I have no idea what it was that cut the links of your chain mail on your sleeve.”

Freidal reached up and touched the severed links. What had been touted as the finest steel in Zarthan. The cut in the rings was only about two inches long and he had a long cut underneath that had bled freely. But it was a scratch, even so. “Maybe a steel bullet; I don’t know.”

A lot of armored men had died today. Damned Hostigi rifles! You might as well not bother with armor! Where was the honor in fighting as bare-naked as a babe in swaddling clothes?

There was a rustle and one of their Mexicotál allies, one of their priests, Mexcala, sank down next to Freidal. He was wearing a headdress with a lot of feathers, and a leather flap to cover his manhood, armed only with an obsidian dagger just as all of the God-King’s priests carried. Priest or not, he’d brought up the rear when they’d retreated, armed only with a rock dagger. It was not possible to doubt his courage.

“My Lord, twice today I was to meet with patrols. They never reported. Yesterday, we had several patrols see survivors from the village. I understand one of your patrols met a Hostigi scout.”

“They are devils,” Freidal told the be-feathered priest. “Four of our men saw him. Somehow he fired first, killing one man and wounding another, before making good his escape. We killed his horse and he still got away.”

Freidal sighed. Count Quillan was not going to be happy at all with what his cavalry were going to report. He decided to try to put the best face on it he could.

“As you reported two days ago, Count Errock has armed the villagers. They fought for their village and they fought us this morning.”

“There were never very many, and after this, there will not be any at all,” the priest said darkly.

Another man approached Freidal, his troop sergeant. “Lord, another has died,” the man reported.

Freidal stifled a curse. The sergeant nodded, understanding Freidal’s expression, even if he did not voice the words he’d have liked.

“We will be able to travel at first light. There is another man who will die during the night. The rest will be able to ride, tomorrow,” the sergeant continued.

The sergeant’s job, Freidal knew, was to tell him facts; it was stupid to be angry with the messenger or the message. He tried to focus his anger on his enemies, the men who’d done this to them!

“We will rouse in time to be able to move as soon as it is light,” Freidal said, even though his bones screamed with weariness.

“My Lord, I will see to it,” the sergeant told him, bobbed his head and vanished into the darkness. Like all of them, trying to ignore the rain.

As if to show Freidal how helpless he was, the rain stopped.

From somewhere Tiki procured a dry blanket that Freidal could wrap around himself, the night breeze over wet clothes was chilling. He lay looking up at the stars, the cold, hard points of light that hid the eyes of the Gods who watched as men struggled and died this day. Were they laughing at Freidal? At all of them? There was no way to tell, not really. You just had to do your best.

And if your best was getting two dozen men slaughtered? Freidal shied away from the thought.

He didn’t really sleep during the night, dozing and waking at every movement in the camp. In spite of the defeat and the palpable gloom that had fallen over them, the troop sergeant had guards out, walking their posts. Freidal didn’t envy them their rounds. Nor did he want to know what they were thinking.

They’d had two Mexicotál scouts, who’d reported that they could smell smoke ahead. He’d thought nothing of the fact that both scouts had returned to report, they’d been doing that all along. It was something he’d never permit again! They’d waited until the column had come up to report, instead of running back with the word. Another thing he’d never permit again!

And so, when they’d started off, the scouts were scarcely a dozen yards in front of him, when the first shot killed Lemeus, his second in command, riding at his side. Another shot had shorn a plume from Freidal’s helmet and a heartbeat later his banner man had died.

Single shots, he’d thought. Marksmen, so he’d thought. He’d almost crowed in glee, that so many of his enemy had emptied their weapons! He’d given the order to charge and then the Hostigi had hit them with two solid volleys. First rank and second rank. How many times had he practiced that maneuver? Ten thousand times, surely!

When they rode into the main camp late the next afternoon, Freidal knew every man in the camp was looking at the officer who led the long string of horses with the bodies of his men draped over their saddles like so many sacks of grain. Freidal just grit his teeth and stopped in front of Count Xitki Quillan.

Freidal dismounted lightly and saluted, hand on his heart. “My Lord, I have failed.”

“Well, you returned, which saves me no end of trouble,” the count told him. “Come inside the headquarters and make your report.”

The count turned to his aide. “See to Captain Freidal’s men, Captain Okestreus.” The other bobbed his head, while Freidal followed Count Quillan inside the headquarters.

It had seemed frivolous when Freidal had first heard of it. With the first horses into the main camp was the knocked down headquarters building for the count. It wasn’t much, about twenty feet on a side and two stories, a plain wooden frame covered with planks. Already Mexicotál laborers were working to build stonework to cover the plank walls, but the frame would remain.

More importantly, Count Quillan had a place to hang maps, to meet with his officers, out of the elements. After yesterday’s rain, Freidal thought that was a greater luxury than he’d imagined.

Freidal reported to his father’s oldest friend in detail, including the things he’d done wrong.

Count Quillan, as usual, didn’t see things the way Freidal had. “You retreated in good order?”

“Yes, sir. We kept a careful watch, in case they counter-attacked.”

“You understand that it is likely that they were far more intent on escaping than engaging you? That they simply got lucky?”  
            That was too much for Freidal. “I can face my failures, Count! The scouts waited for me and we’d barely started to advance again when we came under fire. I thought it was a few skirmishers, intent on slowing us down. I decided we would brush them aside and attack their camp.

“And that just wasn’t the way of it at all,” Freidal admitted. “It was a carefully laid ambush.”

“That it was. And you made mistakes, to be sure. I seriously doubt the next time scouts wait until you come up to report that you will nod and wave your troop forward with no idea of what is ahead.”

“Never again!” Freidal affirmed vehemently.

“There are, Freidal, a thousand thousand mistakes an officer can make. Sometimes nothing happens, sometimes the results are a calamity. In this case, you lost a skirmish, nothing more. Granted, men are dead, and that’s never something to be taken lightly. But, Freidal, you are a captain of the King’s Cavalry. You will make mistakes, we all do. It is the measure of the man you are, how you deal with them.

“I’ve seen officers make really stupid mistakes, Freidal. Don’t get me wrong, not at all. There are mistakes and then there is sheer stupidity. What happened to you was a mixture of youth, inexperience and eagerness. A hundred young captains, Freidal, could have stood in your shoes. Maybe ninety or ninety-five of them would have ridden into the trap. Four or five would have never gotten close enough to the Hostigi to smell their midden heaps. One, maybe two, young officers would have been more cautious, advancing. Usually such are too timid by half.

“One in a thousand, Freidal. One in a thousand young officers would have gotten the problem right, the first time. You are a fine young man, you will get it right the next time.”

Freidal bowed low.

“Now, go see to your men, then see to yourself.”

“And what will you tell my father?”

“Skirmishing continues as per the Great Plan. The Hostigi are lowborn, dishonorable scum who don’t fight as true men should. Two sentences in a ten page report on how the preparations are coming for the arrival of the field army here in two moon quarters, Freidal. I surely don’t mention troop captains in such a report by name.”

IV

Tanda Havra crawled the last few feet and peeped carefully over the rocks. A dozen men were ranged around the point where the trail topped out on the Barrier, all in what they undoubtedly thought was good cover. She studied them carefully, she’d already had a crash course in who was Hostigi. These men were Hostigi.

She lifted her head, pursed her lips and sounded like a mockingbird.

She was amused that not just one, but three Hostigi turned towards her, calling out warnings. The trouble with stupid bird signals was that if you knew your birds, you knew mockingbirds didn’t frequent the high country.

“Tanda Havra,” she called out, “with refugees from Mogdai!”

“Advance,” one of the Hostigi replied, “carefully!”

Tanda gripped the rifle she’d been carrying for a day by the barrel and stood, hoping that these were careful, thoughtful men. Evidently they were, because no one shot at her.

She walked up to them, then moved the rifle slowly, one handed, so it was now barrel down.

“My people come,” she told the man, waving at the trailhead. “Please, they are old and tired. There is a newborn.”

“We heard about that, we brought some goat’s milk.”

Tanda bobbed her head in thanks.

In a finger width, people started appearing on the trail, single file, the Hostigi corporal that Gamelin had sent with them, leading.

“I am Captain Leitnos,” the man said, who’d spoken to her, tapping himself on the chest. “It is late in the day, best we start tomorrow at first light. Three wagons will take you and your people to Outpost.”

Tanda nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Trader Manistewa wanted to come with us but Count Errock wouldn’t permit it.” The captain grinned. “I think your uncle is maybe a little sweet on you. He was awfully concerned about your safety.”

Tanda hefted the rifle. “I want to keep this. I will return to see the rest of them safe.”

Tazi had been the last to reach the top, and she had gravitated towards Tanda. Now she spoke, “Lord Captain of Hostigos! Please! Give me a weapon to kill the Mexicotál that killed my mother, my father! I beg you, Lord! Even an old musket!”

The captain looked at Tazi, and then at Tanda. “Count Errock has ordered me to arm all hale villagers who wish to take the High King’s Oath. No oath, no weapons. Sorry, ladies.”

“I swear,” Tazi said without hesitation. “Whatever it is you want me to, I swear it! By all that is holy with my ancestors, only Mexicotál will die by my hand!”

“Well,” the captain allowed, “it happens that just now there are more enemies than just the Mexicotál. The Zarthani are coming as well.”

“I will kill them too!” Tazi said, her chin jutting up in defiance. “I will kill them all!”

Tanda contained herself. “As I swear.”

A finger width later, the two of them were headed back over the top of the sheer face of the Barrier, down the trail. They were from Mogdai! They flew down the trail that they had taken most of a day to ascend. They reached the bottom of in less than a palm’s width!

Tanda grinned at Tazi as they reached the bottom. A question. Should we stop? Tazi laughed and kept running, brandishing her new rifle. Eager, Tanda, thought, for a chance to use it.

Tanda managed a few words, “That Hostigi trooper is very, very cute!”

Tazi blushed, but didn’t miss a step.

The problem, Tanda thought, as night fell, was that running full tilt towards a maelstrom might just mean it would suck you in. As the sun went down, she slowed. Tazi was more eager, but understood the danger.

As soon as it was too dark to continue, Tanda led them to a crack in some rocks, where the two of them slept.

Later, the moon provided sufficient light for them to continue. About an palm width before dawn, Tanda slowed and stopped. Her nose told her that something was on the wind. She grinned when she realized what it was. The outtime women were still using deodorants. The smell was clear, like a signpost.

Tanda touched Tazi’s shoulder. “Gamelin and his men, and the others, are ahead. Not far. Would you like to play a little joke on them?”

“A joke, elder sister?”

“We will greet the sun, sitting at Gamelin’s fire. Too bad...none will have seen us come.”

Tazi shrugged. It was a game they played at Mogdai as children.

A few finger widths later Tanda reached out with one foot and nudged Gamelin, asleep, a few feet from his horse.

“I notice,” Gamelin said with mock anger a few heartbeats later, “that you didn’t wake Lord Tuck!”

Tanda glanced at the man, his hat drawn down over his face, a few feet away. “I don’t think Lord Tuck sleeps, Lieutenant.”

“Not with all the moving around people do in the dark,” Tuck replied, not bothering to lift his hat.

“Lieutenant Gamelin, a Captain Leitnos from Outpost commands atop the Barrier,” Tanda told the young officer. “They have wagons and supplies.” She smiled wryly. “We left them before night fell, yesterday.”

She saw Tuck smile. “Hopefully, we can cover some ground of our own today,” Tuck said.

V

Judy woke when someone kicked her foot. It wasn’t a really hard kick, but it was more than enough to wake her up. She looked up and saw the village woman, Tanda Havra, standing a few feet away.

“Wake the others,” Judy was told. “Breakfast will be soon, then we must go again.”

Judy grunted, then shook Becky and Lydia. Elspeth woke up by herself, rushing into the bushes, sick again.

Judy saw Tanda Havra watching Elspeth. Probably it was a good thing that Elspeth had told the others last night, because the secret wouldn’t have lasted.

Tanda Havra looked at Judy, her eyes hard. “Father?”

Trying to convey the concept of rape first thing in the morning when every bone and muscle in your body aches, hurts, screams and moans is a trying task. Still, Judy was patient, and so was Tanda. Then Judy got the concept of “no knife” across; odd, that didn’t take any time at all for Tanda to understand that concept.

Elspeth had come back and was watching, obviously upset at Judy for telling someone else. “You going to tell everyone?” Elspeth said, her voice filled with anger and disgust.

“No. But I’m not going to lie when asked, either,” Judy told her.

The village woman laughed, understanding the meaning, even if she didn’t understand the words. She reached out and took Elspeth’s hand, pulling her close. Tanda Havra held out her knife to Elspeth, hilt first.

“She wants to trade knives,” Judy told Elspeth. Elspeth had been, Judy was sure, about one second from exploding. “This is a ceremony of some sort.”

Elspeth looked into Tanda Havra’s eyes. Judy wasn’t sure what Elspeth saw there, but it quieted the girl down. Quieted her enough so that Elspeth produced the switchblade. Tanda Havra smiled when she saw how it worked and nodded in approval.

In the movies there is always a dramatic slice across the palm, but this was just a dig in the thumb. Blood though. The surprise was when Tanda Havra tapped her chest. “Two men tried, but even young, I had a knife!”

“Never leave home without one,” Elspeth said, and Judy did her best to translate it. It didn’t take much.

“Today,” Tanda Havra said, facing Elspeth, “will be better. We will travel far and fast!”

For the first hour, Judy was certain that Tanda Havra was wrong, but then, second wind or whatever, something kicked in. By mid-afternoon the pain and stiffness seemed far away. She had no trouble getting back in the saddle after a late noon break for a few bits of food. All of the others seemed to be much better too.

They had to walk steeply uphill all afternoon. It was like climbing the longest set of stairs Judy had ever seen. Still, Gamelin kept going, until it was nearly too dark to see. Then men appeared from above, bearing torches, and they continued on, until about nine in the evening, when they finally reached the top.

Judy was surprised to see Gamelin’s soldiers climb down from their horses, also stiff and sore. Those who’d walked seemed to be short of breath.

More importantly, there was a regular camp, with lots and lots of soldiers. Three of the soldiers put up their tent in something less than five minutes, without instructions from anyone.

Judy kicked herself, because she hadn’t collected any more of the cactus leaves, they had used the last of them up before they finally went out for the evening. Still, everyone was much better, and the red marks were fading. Judy shook her head in wonder. Was it the medicinal properties of the cactus or the quick healing of the young? Hard to say–maybe it was both. But it was a pretty dramatic turnaround.

She walked up to a fire that had Tuck, Gamelin, Vosper and three Hostigi soldiers she didn’t recognize sitting at it. She listened to the men talk. Gamelin was still reporting on what they’d seen and done, with Tuck interjecting an occasional comment, when Gamelin would ask him something.

Several times Judy saw the man who was obviously in charge look at her, then he’d look at Gamelin. The third or fourth time that happened Gamelin said something to the officer, who laughed and said a few names, then laughed again.

“What was that?” Judy asked Tuck.

“This is an equal opportunity society,” Tuck told her. “But that said, most women stay home and raise families. There are only a few women who fight. The High King’s wife, some others. Let’s just say that the women who fight alongside the men are well-respected in Hostigos. Very well respected.”

“So?” Judy asked, in spite of things, not really understanding.

“So? You fought. Elspeth fought. Both of you are making serious attempts to learn the language. I told you already, these are cavalry soldiers, and they know how hard it is to be in the saddle for days at a time. They respect that in anyone who can do it. You all rode in here this evening like you’d been riding all your lives.”

Tuck nodded at Gamelin and the other officer, both of them watching her and Tuck. “They respect you. Trust me, Judy–it is absolutely impossible to fool a real soldier for very long. When they come to respect you, it’s because they’ve watched you do what has to be done. As an officer, you’re kind of granted a special license to be respected, but only at first. The men learn quickly what kind of an officer you are. You can’t fool them. They’ll know if you’re inexperienced, they’ll know if you’re an idiot. There is a ton of difference begin inexperience and stupidity.”

Judy shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“They think you are the daughters of noblemen. Noblemen lead, Judy. I personally think you’re crazy if you want to do it, but if you want to go a’soldierin’ why, they’ll let you. They will, in fact, probably cheer you on.”

“I’m a little young,” Judy temporized.

“Alexander was eighteen when he set out to conquer the world. Do you think that was the first time he led soldiers in combat?” Tuck observed.

“No.”

“Well then!” Tuck replied. “There you have it! Right now, you stand at a crossroads, Elspeth to a lesser extent as well. They are going to treat you both with respect. They will let you stay at what is a council of war. They will let you talk and they will listen and give your opinions due consideration. They will listen to you, at least until you show them some reason not to. Gamelin is a junior officer and now you’ve earned the same rights, by their lights, yourself.

“Have a care, girl! There are no medivac choppers here! The first time a wound turns septic, it’s curtains! You, unlike these people, have not had to deal with that much hard living. They fight off infections without slowing down that will leave you on your back, gasping for breath. Or me, for that matter. Vietnam was no picnic, and we had many times more men sick than we had killed or wounded.”

Tuck waved at the fire. “Right now, I need to do some more explaining to these guys about the advantages of irregular warfare. Please smile, nod, and act like you understand every blessed word everyone says, particularly me!”

So she listened for more than two hours as Tuck described a campaign against their attackers. Slowly, steadily, Judy grew to recognize more and more words. Particularly, she thought with a grimace, those having to do with combat.

After a bit, Tanda Havra and the other girl from her village who was with her appeared at the fire. Neither of them said a word, just listening to the discussion that was mainly between Tuck and Captain Leitnos, the man who commanded the Hostigi force that had come to rescue them.

It was ironically funny what broke up the meeting: Gamelin yawned.

Captain Leitnos and another officer Judy didn’t know both laughed.

“Lieutenant, we have a full day tomorrow. You will turn in. You, Sergeant Vosper, you will also turn in. I seriously doubt if any of your troopers are still awake!” Captain Leitnos said. “And you, Tuck! I understand you don’t sleep!”

“I get by,” Tuck said softly.

“Well, get by someplace dark and quiet! And you, Judybondi! You return to your friends and watch over them from dreamland!”

Tuck got up and led the way back to the tent. They had traded desert for ponderosa pine trees as they’d climbed during the afternoon and it was much cooler.

Tuck settled himself against one of the trees a few feet from the tent entrance and pulled his Stetson down over his face.

Judy laughed and went into the tent and collapsed on her sleeping bag. Captain Leitnos had been right, it was past time to sleep!


	11. Climb Every Mountain

I

Judy was woken for the second day in a row by a kick on the foot. She cracked an eye and saw Tanda Havra once again standing over her. “Breakfast,” Tanda informed Judy. “Then horse or wagon.”

Judy looked around the tent, empty except for the two of them. She must have been tired to sleep past the others getting up!

“Horse,” Judy said almost without thinking. She’d seen the wagons yesterday. They bumped and jolted you, there were no springs.

“Be ready, be quick!” Tanda told her, turned and left.

Judy watched her go, more curious than ever. Why had the two native women returned? What had the ritual with Elspeth been about? Why Elspeth and not her?

Then she rushed through getting ready, even as troopers arrived to tear down the tent.

Around her the camp was stirring, men were bustling about loading wagons and taking down their own tents. It looked like a confused bustle, but if you watched for a few seconds, you realized that these men were experienced in what they did. There was little wasted effort and the apparent confusion was because there were a lot of people moving rapidly to perform particular tasks.

She found Tuck and Gamelin sitting around a much smaller fire than there had been the night before. A soldier handed Judy a cup of the porridge they ate. Again, even though the taste wasn’t very pleasant, she quickly finished it. The porridge was warm and that felt good against the morning chill.

Tuck said something to Gamelin and Gamelin nodded, got up and walked away.

“The signal post on that mountain didn’t report at first light, like it’s supposed to,” Tuck told her. “A group of troopers left early to get to their town.” He grimaced. “I let Captain Leitnos convince me that we should not go with them. Gamelin assures me that we can catch up in short order.”

Judy nodded.

Tuck’s eyes went to Tanda Havra, who was talking to the girl from her village a couple of hundred yards away. “I was talking to Gamelin’s boss last night and this morning. Tanda Havra has family at Outpost. Traders, mostly. They were, he told me, quite worried about her.

“Judy, I don’t know anything for certain, one way or the other. But if someone has a family who’s relatively well off in one place and goes and lives in a much poorer place by her lonesome...there pretty much has to be a reason. She’s not the village idiot, she’s not stupid, and she’s competent enough to kill deer by sneaking up on them in the dead of night.

“I can’t think of a single good reason to live like that, when you don’t have to. I can, in fact, think of a number of reasons to live like that, that aren’t good. I would be very, very careful about what you say to her.”

Judy looked at Tuck, puzzled. “You’re saying something, but it’s not clear.”

“Either she’s done something to piss off her family, they’ve done something to piss her off, or something else. If I was a trading family, I might think about putting someone in place among the locals who could look after my affairs. Except Tanda Havra is supposed to be an herbalist...kind of like a pharmacist, here and now. She’s not known to be involved in the family business.”

“She knew what to do to treat the saddle sores and blisters,” Judy agreed.

“Regardless, absent something to the contrary, I’m going to assume that she’s a spy. I don’t know who for, so I’m going to assume the worst there, too.”

“A spy? That doesn’t make any sense!” Judy said, upset. “Spy on who?”

He looked at her steadily for a few seconds. “The people around her, that’s who. The more important question is spy for whom? That’s where I’m assuming the worst: that she’s one of those traveling through time. I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Flowers and her daughter, but someone was watching us closely and reacted quickly when they left the rest of us behind.

“I don’t know any of this for a fact, Judy, don’t get me wrong. I hear this uncle of hers has the hots for her and that she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. That is a good and sufficient explanation for everything I know about her.”

He took his hat off and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It wasn’t that hot, but he was sweating anyway. “Vietnam, Judy, was an education. The Vietnamese officers ranged from as good as we were, to corrupt, venial and beyond incompetent. Some of their officers were selling the food and ammunition that was supposed to be going to their own troops to the Viet Cong. Their government was riddled with the same sorts of people: corrupt, incompetent, or merely looking out for number one, devil take the hindmost. Right up to men as good and as competent as any, anywhere.

“You never knew when you went out on a patrol if someone had sold the route in advance to Charlie. More than one bunch of our guys got their clocks cleaned because someone betrayed them. Once you figured that out, you learned to play everything close to the vest. If you told someone anything, it was usually the wrong information, a trick.”

He put his hat back on and straightened up. “It’s hell not being able to trust people, Judy. But that’s just a tiny hell compared to what happens when you find out someone you like and trust is selling you down the river. Whether it’s for money or ideology, it’s not a pleasant thing. So, I learned to be cautious. You should be too.”

“And the others?” Judy asked.

“If all of us aren’t cautious, God knows what will happen to us. Still, I wouldn’t bother them with this just yet. Maybe Elspeth.”

“She’s older than I am,” Judy said quietly.

“So? Judy, when I needed someone, I’d turn around and there you were. I know Elspeth has some personal problems, I understand, at least a little. She might be older, but she’s what I think of as a staff person.” He laughed. “I almost said ‘puke’ there; we didn’t have a lot of regard for the rear-echelon mother.. ” he paused and said, “...the guys in the rear.

“She’s competent, to be sure,” he went on, “but, Judy, the bottom line is that you were there. You are here now. So, be careful. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t know anything for sure one way or the other and could well live my entire life and not find out anything one way or the other. On the other hand, we don’t have a clue what happened to Mrs. Flowers and her daughter. Just be careful!”

Gamelin appeared, leading a mare. Judy swung up into the saddle, with all the litheness that she’d once had. A second later, Tuck was up, next to her on a much larger gelding.

“One last thing. I talked earlier about noblemen.”

Judy nodded.

“Noblemen don’t carry packs, they don’t do minor chores unless there is no one to do them. On the patrol, it was different, even for Gamelin. Here, he’s an officer. People do a lot of the work for him. They will do the same thing for you, for the others, and for me. The single worst thing you could ever do is start taking it for granted.”

He waved at the column of troopers forming up in a line of twos, ahead and behind them. “These men, like I said, aren’t stupid. You have their respect, but start taking them for granted and that respect will run out faster than water from a holey bucket. You have to think, Judy.”

Judy nodded, quite serious.

“And be careful,” Tuck added.

That was really everything Tuck had said, summed up into three words. Think! Be careful!

Gamelin came up on his black horse, looking very bright and cheerful. A few minutes later they were in motion.

Judy was scandalized, almost at once. “Why don’t Tanda and her friend have horses?” she asked Gamelin as the column began to move, while the native women began to run.

“They were offered horses, but declined,” Gamelin told her. “The other day, they took a group of two dozen old women and men, young children and a newborn infant and covered the distance it took us twice as long to cover. Then, the two women ran back to meet up with us. And did the march yesterday, all on their feet. They can run forever!”

Judy remembered Tuck’s story and nodded.

Later, Gamelin went to the head of the column and Tuck moved in beside her. “Why is Gamelin looking so pleased this morning?” she asked, curious.

“He’s a junior officer, on his first patrol. His whole career was riding on the outcome. Turning around and heading back before achieving his objectives heads the list of big do-do.”

“There were enemies out there!” Judy said, upset again. “We met them!”

“We did,” Tuck agreed. “However, sometimes the military isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. His boss could have decided he didn’t do all he could and racked him over the coals for it. Captain Leitnos brought word that Gamelin did the right thing. That is a big load off the young man’s mind.”

He paused for a second, and then took a dig at Judy. “That and you keep smiling at him. Every time you do that, he stands straighter, puffs out his chest and gets a pleased grin on his face.”

Judy decided that blushing wasn’t the thing to do. She’d noticed the same thing. She’d also noticed that she was smiling at him a lot, herself.

“I’m not old enough,” Judy said, a little unhappy.

Tuck laughed. “And when will you be fourteen?”

“Two months. The third of June.”

“Do you know what they call a fourteen-year-old girl here?” Tuck asked her.

Judy shook her head.

“The phrase translates as ‘husband-high.’”

Judy couldn’t help blushing this time.

Tuck nodded sagely. “Yep, this isn’t home. They have another phrase, a little coarser. ‘Old enough to bed, old enough to wed.' In short, Judy, the rules here are different. As your acting parent, I do hope you will talk to me before you do anything hasty.”

Judy saw Gamelin sitting his horse off to one side of the trail as they rode along. He swung in, next to Tuck. “Tuck, Captain Leitnos has asked if you would join him in the van. He wants to hear more about your ideas.”

Tuck gave Gamelin a salute, moved a little off to one side and kneed his horse into a trot.

Gamelin pulled in next to Judy. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she told him, Tuck’s words running through her mind.

He smiled at her and Judy closed her eyes for a brief second. It was true! On the ground her knees would have been wobbly and she was thinking thoughts about things that she’d imagined were some time in the future. Quite some time in the future!

“When we stop later, I will show you how to fire a pistol,” he told her. “Tuck says you don’t know more than to point and shoot.”

“I know how to shoot,” Judy said, a little miffed, in spite of her earlier thoughts. Or maybe because of them.

He laughed. “Loading though, that is something else! Our pistols aren’t as easy to load as Tuck’s! One shot is all you have! You can’t afford to miss! Also, Tuck’s weapons have something to keep them from shooting accidentally. Not ours. Cock one of our pistols and you are dangerous!”

He was, Judy thought, being as nice as he could be. Of course, he probably wanted to get her off to one side and apply a little hands-on instruction on how to shoot.

Two things ran through her mind, just then. First, she’d understood almost every word he’d said. True, he was speaking slowly and maybe not using all the different words he could have, but she had understood him well enough.

The second thing? The future was holding fewer and fewer dangers, to her mind.

A few minutes later a command passed down the column, and they moved from a walk to a trot. It was going to be, Judy thought, an interesting day.

II

Gamelin watched Judybondi ride, keeping a careful eye on her. She’d said she could ride and it was evidently so. She sat the mare easily, even at a trot.

Moreover, she could talk and ride at the same time, something his older sister had never managed. He had talked to Judy about all sorts of things about her home and about his. She was, he noticed almost at once, a little more reticent about talking about her home than she’d been before.

“It is different there,” she told him. “Not like this.”

He talked a little about the Trygath, more about Hostigos, which seemed to make her more at ease. It was, he thought, logical. She knew her home; Hostigos was the strange place that she needed to learn more about.

After about a half palm width, he reluctantly bid her goodbye, and hustled further down the column to find Vosper, who was near the rear.

The sergeant laughed at Gamelin. “A nice day for a ride, particularly with the pleasant company!” Vosper told him.

Gamelin grinned. “Duty, Senior Sergeant! Duty! She is new to our lands, and everything is strange! I was telling her about the glory of Hostigos and the High King, the wonders of the Trygath!”

Vosper nodded, and then lowered his voice a bit. “I wouldn’t want to bury you, Lieutenant. I would go slow around someone Lord Tuck has sworn to protect!”

“I too have sworn to protect Judybondi and her friends,” Gamelin told him, quite serious. “This isn’t about that.”

Vosper shook his head, his eyes laughing. “No, I don’t suspect it is. It’s not doing you any harm with the men, either. Half of them think Judybondi is a reincarnation of the High Queen. Mention to them that the High Queen is alive and well and they shrug.”

Gamelin nodded and Vosper laughed again, “Lady Judybondi isn’t husband-high yet, Lieutenant. I asked.”

“Two moons,” Gamelin replied, “I asked, too." The two men traded grins.

Vosper jerked his chin, in the general direction of Outpost. “I will soon be asked my opinion of how well you conducted yourself, Lieutenant.”

Gamelin felt a wave of nervousness run through him. He’d thought this was past, once Captain Leitnos told him that Count Errock had accepted his report and said to pass on a “Well done!” to Gamelin.

“My Lord Gamelin,” Vosper continued, surprising Gamelin with his formality, “I have thirty-five summers. I am no longer a young man. I’ve spent my life in service of Hostigos since I was a bare-cheeked boy. I have spent most of that time in the service of the High King.”

“The High King rewards such men as you very well indeed,” Gamelin said, trying to reassure the older sergeant.

Vosper made a dismissive gesture. “I understand. I understand other things too. You did very well in the last two moon quarters, Lord Gamelin. You are blessed by both Dralm and Galzar Wolf’s Head. My Lord, if you would have me, I would join your service as your oath man.”

That was, Gamelin thought, something else again. Gamelin had exactly zero people in his personal service. He’d known servants and courtiers since he could remember. But they were in his father’s service, or the service of some other noble.

Since Prince Ptosphes of Hostigos had knelt to Lord Kalvan, the concept of First Fealty had grown steadily in importance. Taking a man like Sergeant Vosper on would be a large plus mark, he was sure. Sure, it would be nice to have a man like Lord Tuck vowing fealty, but that just wasn’t going to happen, just like it hadn’t been Lord Kalvan kneeling to Prince Ptosphes. Tuck knew what he’d be doing and he was going to do it. Tuck wasn’t, Gamelin was sure, going to be bowing to anyone in the near future.

“I would be honored, Sergeant Vosper,” Gamelin replied with hardly a pause.

“When we stop, my Lord. These things should be done sooner, rather than later.”

Gamelin understood that. “I won’t change my mind, come whatever.”

“There are lot’s of whatevers abroad right now, Lord Gamelin.”

Vosper was right, better to get it done.

They didn’t stop until the afternoon; they’d caught up to the wagons that had been sent out earlier, as they stopped for their lunch break.

Captain Leitnos told them it would be a short break.

The bending of a knee, though, took hardly any time at all. And of course, was going to be the topic of conversation the rest of the day for the men in the column, Gamelin thought, as they started up again.

He rode up to the front of the column, to ride with Tuck and Captain Leitnos. “That was what?” Tuck asked, waving behind them.

“Oath,” Gamelin told him, then had a little more trouble explaining fealty. It took Gamelin a finger width to realize that Tuck knew what the oath was; it was the details of the relationship he wanted to know about.

Tuck had nodded in understanding.

Captain Leitnos gestured ahead of them. “Another few palm widths to Outpost, Tuck. I will be interested in your opinion of our defenses.”

Tuck had shrugged. “I know some of defenses, it wasn’t my specialty. I told you earlier that against this host, a siege would go to the attackers.”

Captain Leitnos nodded. “As well it might. First though, you should see Outpost.”

“Walls?” Tuck asked.

“There are walls around the inner city. The outer city is too large, but we will fall back to the inner city.”

“An old trick was to burn the outer town and drive the defenders off the walls,” Tuck warned.

Captain Leitnos grinned. “Not a problem at Outpost.”

They talked about the defenses for some time, only at the last did Tuck think to ask, “We have, ah, ditches, around some fortifications. I think, maybe I should have asked sooner.”

Gamelin had known they were coming up the last ridge, his admiration for Captain Leitnos’ timing knew no bounds. Exquisite!

They topped out and Tuck could see the town ahead of them.

“I’ll be damned!” Tuck said, his voice tight.

Ahead of them Outpost sat, the eye of the needle lake that surrounded it.

“Long cannon shot,” Captain Leitnos said with pride. “Quite a ditch!”

“Food? Fireseed?” Tuck asked, the words tumbling from his mouth.

“We knew this day would come. Two years of food, assuming everyone stays. We have our own fireseed mill, the makings for twenty thousand cannon shots, and ten million rifle and pistol loads. We have shot for that many as well,” Captain Leitnos told him, considerable pride in his voice.

“Gamelin said five thousand defend the town,” Tuck said, his eyes never leaving the town.

“That many, yes. But that includes everyone, including the halt and the lame. We may get more as the local villagers come in. But, five thousand at least.”

Tuck nodded. “I don’t know the name of the engineer who designed this place, but he was a genius." He pointed towards the north. “A dam?”

“Yes. The weak spot. An enemy can throw it down. But what’s left will take a few moons, even still, to cross,” the captain explained. “The engineer was Colonel Count Nicomoth, the best military engineer of the age. And Count Errock’s brother-in-law.”

Tuck turned to face Captain Leitnos directly. “We heard a half million or more men march towards us.”

“We have seen not even ten thousand,” Captain Leitnos told Tuck.

Tuck laughed and nodded. “My people, a hundred years ago, fought a war in a place like this. There weren’t ten thousand soldiers in all of the area across the mountains. Anyone who brings even fifty thousand soldiers into this region is simply insane. Insane! It will be possible to crush them totally,” Tuck said with confidence.

“You say,” Captain Leitnos replied. “Why do you expect them to wait, quiet, in their stall to be slaughtered, I don’t understand." Stall was a new language concept and occupied a good bit of time that they covered on the way down to the bottom of the hill.

The low hills ran like fingers, heading north. The Barrier was something that Gamelin had heard about as he came west, but hadn’t believed until he’d seen it for himself. Imagine a flat table with sheer sides. Tip it up, with the south side going up and the north side going down. That was the Barrier. In spite of the steep cliff to the south, rain that fell atop the Barrier flowed north, not south like one would expect.

Count Nicomoth had been sent to find a hilltop that could be fortified. Instead, he’d found this valley. He’d gone to the High King himself with his maps and sketches. The High King saw the truth of it and commanded him to build the city.

The road came down a hillside, cutting a long, slanting line that started south of the town and went to the north, then cut back south again and finally with a turn to the north once more, debouched onto the valley floor. The hill was steep, with considerable loose rock. Gamelin had spent his life on horses; he guessed an expert horseman had two chances in three of reaching the bottom still alive, coming straight down. An inexpert horseman would die on that slope unless he took the road.

There was a cluster of buildings and houses on the shore of the lake, the Outer Town. There, rafts were connected to the spire of rock in the center by long thick ropes. Outpost, the town, was built around and into the rocks in the middle of the eye. The lake was about five miles long and at the fat end, perhaps two and a half miles across. The island that Outpost was built on was a roughly circular mesa about a quarter of a mile across, with a flat top and steep sides.

Tuck stopped halfway down, and looked northwards at the dam. “Half full?”

Captain Leitnos bobbed his head. “Yes! The slopes are steep near the top, so we won’t gain much distance as it fills up, but it will make throwing down the dam more difficult, plus will leave more debris for an enemy to cross.”

Gamelin saw a party depart the buildings of the outer town, heading towards them. Count Errock led, his wife next to him, and several others, some in uniform, some not, accompanied their count.

Tuck saw them coming and turned to Captain Leitnos. “Sir, a favor. Give me a few moments to assemble my charges so that we may thank your count as he should be thanked.”

The captain nodded and gave the order. There was a stir in the column and a few moments later Judybondi and her friends joined Tuck at the front of the column. Then Tanda Havra and her companion from Mogdai came up too. Tanda Havra was carrying the baby in her arms.

The meeting was halfway between the hill and the lake. It was a vision Gamelin would carry with him until his dying day. Lord Tuck, his Stetson cocked back, his rifle lying across his saddle. Judybondi and her friends, drawn up in echelon, next to him, on his right. To Tuck’s left was Tanda Havra and the girl, Tazi, and the babe in Tanda Havra’s arms.

Captain Leitnos was a short distance in front, with Gamelin at his side.

Facing them was Count Errock, a man in his late forties, tall, his hair just starting to gray, his eyes like those of eagles: far-seeing, all-seeing. His wife, Linnea, was blonde like the High Queen, tall like her husband, and if anything, even more regal, was to her husband’s right. To Count Errock’s left were two colonels–one who commanded the cavalry at Outpost, the other who commanded the garrison. On Count Errock’s wife’s right were two men, similar in color and appearance to Tanda Havra.

“Report, Captain,” Count Errock commanded.

Captain Leitnos gave a formal report. It was, Gamelin thought, all for show, because the same thing had long since been messaged to Outpost.

Count Errock listened gravely, and then nodded to Gamelin. “Lieutenant, do you have anything to add?”

“I went seeking enemies, Lord Count. I returned with friends.”

Count Errock turned to Tuck. “I’m told that even after only a few days, you understand me.”

“If you speak slowly and simply, Lord Count,” Tuck replied.

“Are you a friend?”

“Lord Count, I was with a friend, intent on teaching some young people about survival in the desert. One instant we were there, the next instant here. I saw Lieutenant Gamelin and his men approaching. I took council of my fears and fled with those with me.

“There were shots fired, Lord Count. I fired them all. Every last one. Lieutenant Gamelin bravely came to talk to me anyway, alone and unarmed. Since then, yes, we’ve found more and more that we understand each other. And that we are indeed among friends.”

“And these young women?” Count Errock indicated Judybondi and the others.

“They were given into my responsibility. I do not take such things lightly. I pledge to you, Count Errock, that we are peaceful people, that we were intent on our own pursuits that had nothing to do with this war or any enemy of yours or your King.”

“Yet you were armed.”

“I was a soldier, Lord Count. Good habits keep you from making bad mistakes.”

Gamelin smiled at that. What a clever idea!

Count Errock also smiled. “That is so. I hear some call you, ‘Lord?’”

“Sir, in my land, there are no such. Yes, I was an officer in my army, but mostly I commanded others, from another kingdom. That was what we did, Lord Count, me and mine.

“Lord Count, your troopers are good men, faced with something they don’t understand, as I don’t understand, as these young ladies don’t understand. We have tried to make sense of it, using concepts we know, but all we really understand are friends and enemies.”

“There were once, I understand, more of you.”

Tuck bowed his head and was about to speak, but Gamelin spoke first. “Lord Count, I commanded. Two left the camp I commanded, under the noses of the troopers I commanded, escaped the pickets I had set, and evaded a patrol I sent after them. If there is fault, it is mine.”

“But my responsibility,” Tuck interjected.

“You faced ten thousand of our enemies,” Count Errock told them. “Already more than fifty of the High King’s soldiers have died. And that is my responsibility!”

Count Errock turned back to Gamelin. “You had several skirmishes with enemy scouting parties?”

“Yes, Lord. In the end, we ambushed a large Zarthani patrol, more than we were. We smashed them,” Gamelin reported.

“And you learned what from that?" Count Errock asked.

“Lord Count, I learned a lot more about caution and thinking so that I truly understand what I see.”

The count inclined his head to Gamelin, showing that he approved. “Come, let us return to my town. Lord Tuck, please, you and yours will be our guests.”

Tanda Havra spoke up, lifting the infant so that all could see her. “Lord Count, I speak for the villagers of Mogdai. I ask a favor.”

The count regarded her, and then the baby. “I will consider it.”

“Lord Count, I have asked my people, now they ask a boon of you. Naming a person, Lord, is usually done later in life, than this." She lofted the baby up again for all to see, in case someone had missed it.

“We ask, Lord Count, that you command Lord Tuck to name this child as hospitality price.”

That was, Gamelin knew, something the new hospitality cult practiced. More or less to prevent freeloaders from abusing hospitality. The hospitality price or gift was supposed to be something of no great value, except for sentiment. No money, no exchange of first-born, nothing like that. Instead, it was the gift of something like a favorite horse or dog, a favorite knife or rifle. Always, always, the one who asked for such a price, had to match it.

“And what should Tuck ask in return?" Count Errock asked Tanda Havra, even though the question was really directed at Tuck.

Tuck spoke out. “Lord Count Errock, I’m not familiar with your customs. Sir, I would ask of you at least one of your ears and your attention for two palm widths.”

The count laughed. “Oh, I think you can be assured of that much or more, Tuck." The count indicated the baby. “Can you think of a name for this child? You understand her mother was a Mexicotál slave who escaped her slavery and her probable fate as a sacrifice to their God-King? That she and her husband died, delivering their daughter from that same fate?”

Tuck nodded. “Lord Count, Tanda Havra. This morning when we rode out of our camp, the dew had set overnight on a meadow we rode through. The early morning sun gleamed, outlining a shining path, leading us toward Outpost. I name her, sir, Shining Path, that she might lead others to safety and refuge, Lord Count.”

That was, Gamelin thought, about as noble a sentiment as he’d ever heard. It would appeal to Count Errock’s vanity and impress the villagers. Still, from all that Vosper had said, the villagers were notional. He looked at Tanda Havra’s face.

She stood, her face like a stone, no sign of emotion.

Count Errock turned to her as well. “Tanda Havra of Mogdai village, is the name acceptable?”

“Yes, Lord Count. It is one Shining Path will carry for all of her years, always reminded of her duty to her parents, to the village. To all of us. It is very good.”

“It is done, then. Come, let us go to my town. There you may rest, eat better food than porridge and we can talk at great length.”

III

The name had hit Tanda like a rock smacking her in the forehead. She had been curious, yes. But she’d known that the count would ask if the name was acceptable and she’d been fully prepared to say no. That Tuck had a sense of poetry, a sense of the debt of honor that the baby represented–there was no one, none at all, even Old Man, who would have objected to the name. Or who could have come up with a better one.

She’d responded to Count Errock, feeling drained.

Manistewa sat his horse quietly, siding Count Errock’s wife, the Lady Linnea. Mentally Tanda prepared herself as best as she could. It was quite likely they had been lying to her; that she already faced sentence, and as soon as she was alone with Manistewa she’d be rendered unconscious and she’d have no further memories of her life up to now, ever again. It was a daunting possibility, but she knew in her heart, what she’d done had been worth it. If she’d been willing to die for the village, why wouldn’t she find another life an acceptable alternative?

Still, it would mean she’d have no memory of Mogdai, Old Man, Tazi, Smiling Fox or his woman. Or Shining Path. Maybe, she thought, she could turn and run, sprint into the trees?

Except she knew what would happen then. Perhaps her body would be found, most likely not. She’d die. What her fate would be if she stayed, time would tell. No need to tempt fate by doing something stupid.

The party made their way down to the dock, where flat-bottom rafts on thick rope cables pulled them out to the island in the “eye” of the lake. Tanda stood silent and impassive a few feet away from Manistewa’s stirrup, ignoring the hub-hub of people talking around her.

Gamelin, Tuck and his charges went higher up the hill, to the Hostigi part of the town, while Tanda followed Manistewa a much shorter distance to the “family” compound. Inside, men came to see to Manistewa’s horse, while he and Tanda continued inside.

There were nods of recognition, but no one spoke. A few minutes later they went down a corridor and into Manistewa’s private office, then through a secret door, down steps and into the Paratime Police headquarters.

She’d heard of the woman who waited for her there; she’d seen her picture often enough. Chief of Paratime Police, Hadron Dalla. She was good-looking, a beautiful woman, with the tan of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. Her hair was turning gray. All window-dressing, Tanda thought, because while Home Time Line citizens didn’t exactly live forever, they lived hundreds of years. And if rumor was true, they could see their soul reborn into a particular baby.

Hadron Dalla laughed when she saw Tanda. “I’m neither an ogre, nor a tyrant, and I surely don’t visit my wrath on people who do their best in a difficult situation, a situation not of their making.

“This has been, Tanda, one of the worst screw-ups I’ve seen in my many years as a Paracop. All of the University people involved were transported home and interrogated under hypnosis and mechanical means of verifying their stories. So far, we’ve seen no evidence of anything beyond mind-numbing stupidity and cupidity.

“The stupid ones, because they are from the University, will simply have a flag in their records stating that they may never be permitted to travel outtime again. The outright thieves, there were four of them, those have had their personalities adjusted; they too will never travel away from the Home Time Line.

“I remember my husband telling Chief Tortha Karf, the same day Calvin Morrison was accidentally picked up, that what we did was unconscionable. Under his direction at first and now on my watch, we’ve cut the number of those accidents by ninety percent. Thousands of innocents have not had to die for our mistakes.

“Still, we have our duty to protect the Paratime Secret. You have watched Tuck? His charges?”

“Yes, Chief. They know the Paratime secret, I’m sure of it." She met the chief’s eyes. “But like Calvin Morrison, they’re not stupid, none of them are. Most particularly William Tucker isn’t stupid. They know they’ve been shifted laterally in time, they know there are people who look quite human who pass among them from other timelines. They have told Gamelin essentially the same story that Calvin Morrison told Ptosphes: they were traveling on innocent business, were magically brought here and left to fend for themselves. The High King told Ptosphes to tell people he was from the Winter Kingdom, across the Western Ocean, banished by an evil sorcerer.”

She realized as she spoke, that she was speaking to the woman whose husband had investigated Calvin Morrison’s reaction and story. She was telling him things she already knew. She lapsed into silence.

“Does this William Tucker expect rescue?” Hadron Dalla asked her.

“No. I talked to the girls with him. One of them is pregnant; she is very bitter. She isn’t as young as the others, but considered too young even so on her home time line to be a mother. She expected her uncle to perform an abortion on her. She is quite positive that she is going to have the baby now. The pregnancy was the result of rape, and she is going to have psychological problems with it, I think. She is positive that rescue is not a possibility. Had there been any optimistic discussion of rescue, she’d have a different attitude.”

The chief nodded. “That is good analysis!”

“What about me?” Tanda asked, wanting to get it over with.

“Welcome to the Paracops, Tanda Havra!” the chief told her.

She looked at the chief. Someone like Tanda didn’t become a Paracop.

Hadron Dalla grinned, “Oh, you’d be surprised, Tanda, about what’s going to happen. Somewhere, somehow, there are still elements in our society that are misusing people like you, like those of your home timeline and many other timelines. That makes me want to throw up. I need to find loyal Paracops who are willing to take the fight back to them. I’m willing to bet you won’t be shy doing that, not to someone from Home Timeline.”

Tanda looked at the chief and decided that speaking would be a bad idea.

“So, continue your mission as you have. You will observe William Tucker and his charges. You may not take action against any of them unless you determine that there is no choice, that there will be no way other way to keep the Paratime Secret. Send your reports to my attention alone. I will be the only one who makes the determination of what to do about any lapses about the Paratime Secret.”

Tanda bobbed her head. This was so much better than she’d ever dared hope!

“See Sergeant Manistewa, he’ll set you up with some better equipment than you had before. Thank you, Tanda.”


	12. Council of War

I

Judy Bondi looked around the room she’d been led to and marveled. There was no other word for it, she marveled. The room had a high ceiling, and there were windows along one side that let in lots of afternoon sunlight. There was a small alcove off to one side with a bed in it. A bed with the most wonderfully soft mattress she’d ever known in her life, and huge pillows that covered the headboard.

Off to another side of the room, another small niche, with what passed for a toilet and a tub. There was a cistern that flushed the toilet, but Judy couldn’t see any way to fill it. She didn’t see any way to fill the tub, either.

That was made clear shortly after she arrived, when a half dozen servants appeared, bearing buckets of hot water. A few minutes later they were back, with lukewarm water.

Judy barred the door to her room, tore out of her clothes and laid back in the tub, letting every single muscle in her body, it seemed, unknot. Eventually, the warmth started to fade, and she vigorously scrubbed every square inch of her skin, ending with her hair.

There were towels the size of beach towels provided and she used them. She couldn’t believe how much better she felt afterwards. She knocked on doors, then. Becky, she knew, was across the hall, Lydia diagonally across the hall and Elspeth next door to herself. Only Elspeth answered, and she too was still damp.

“What do you think?” Judy asked.

“The thought of people having to carry my hot water,” Elspeth said bitterly, “turns my stomach.”

“I notice you’re wet.”

“They sacrificed for me; I told them, never again. But I’m not stupid. I used what they’d brought.”

“Elspeth,” Tuck said from a few feet away. “Suppose your job in life was to fetch water. How would you feel if someone told you that they disapproved of what you did?”

“I’d tell them to find another job!” Elspeth said with heat.

“Elspeth, back home, most people have water heated by natural gas.”

“Our house was,” Elspeth agreed.

“Elspeth, men worked to extract the natural gas out of the ground. More worked to pump it from there to your house. Others worked repairing breaks, fixing the equipment. Others read the meter; odds are there are a lot of women who work in the corporate offices. Tell me, Elspeth, what’s different about this?”

“These people have to carry the water to my door.”

Tuck shook his head. “No. You simply don’t recognize the difference. Here, I suspect they heat water over wood fires. You could go fetch your own water, I suspect. What, four people and two loads each?”

Elspeth nodded, uncertain what Tuck was telling her.

“Okay, you spend half an hour fetching water. How about the wood? Are you going to go cut the trees? Split the wood? Take the water from the well and put it into the heating tubs?”

“What are you trying to say?” Elspeth asked.

“Elspeth, comforts you took for granted back home took the work of a lot of people, but they were faceless, out of sight and mind. Comforts here also take the work of a lot of people except here you see them. Instead of pissing them off, contemplate what you can do for them for Christmas.”

“Do they have Christmas?” Lydia asked from her door.

“I doubt it,” Tuck said. “But most cultures have a winter solstice holiday. Odds are, these people do too. The point is to make you think. This isn’t home. They do things differently here. Before you go making judgments about this or that, you need to think about what you’re doing.”

He waved at Judy. “I told Judy earlier a lot of work we are used to having done for us by faceless people we never saw will be done here by someone in front of our eyes. Don’t run them down. Don’t take them for granted. You tip in restaurants when the waitress brings you a coke and hamburger. This is no different. Treat these people right, ladies!”

Judy contemplated what Tuck was saying. It was, she thought, embarrassing. He was talking about something that was a larger truth. When had she ever thanked the people who provided electricity to her house? The garbage man? The people who made TV shows? There were, in fact, a million jobs that she relied on every day that she never thought about, never recognized, that made her life what it had been. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing, having it rubbed in her face!

Gamelin appeared, smiled at Judy and said something to Tuck she couldn’t hear.

“Sure, now is a good time,” Tuck replied.

“What?” Judy asked.

He met her eyes. “Count Errock wants me to talk to him and a few of his advisors. A council of war.”

“Can I come?”

Tuck looked at her, then at the others.

Elspeth laughed. “Okay, I’m sorry about not understanding about step and fetch it. That doesn’t mean I’m not about to go hop in that great huge bed and sleep until next week!”

Lydia nodded. “I’m really tired! I hurt everywhere!”

Becky nodded, then yawned. “Me too, I can barely stay awake.”

Tuck turned to Judy. “I’ll try to get them to agree. I think I’ll succeed, but I’ll tell you right now, the only thing I have to offer these people are my skills. My skills as a soldier. You talk about your rooms and the people who bring you things. Think about this, ladies: those things cost. They cost either money or labor. They aren’t doing it for us because we’re just good friends. At some point, we either start paying our way or we will get evicted.

“Judy, you need to think very carefully if you want to come along and then think twice more before you decide to talk.”

He turned to the others. “Elspeth was a high school student, the rest of you were in elementary school. This isn’t meant to be disparaging–on the contrary. From what I can tell, maybe half or more of the adults here are illiterate. You have useful skills, just as I do. Different ones, but useful nonetheless. Think about our situation, your situation, please. It’s not the best thing in the world, but we’ve seen enough to have an idea of what some of the worst things are.”

He motioned and Judy fell in step next to him, while Tuck followed Gamelin.

They passed through long stone halls, out a door and along a gallery. They could see for quite a distance off to the south. It was a beautiful view.

“Tuck,” Gamelin sounded a little nervous, “these are the personal quarters of Count Errock.”

Tuck nodded, but they didn’t slow.

Count Errock was standing when they entered, Lady Linnea, Count Errock’s wife, was a few feet away, with a tray of what were obviously drinks, not to mention fruit. There were some apples, a few pears and peaches.

“I am sorry, Tuck, this is not the season for fresh fruit,” Linnea told him.

Tuck bowed. “My lady,” he brandished what looked like a peach, “I have no idea how you found one of these at this time of year. You have my respect!”

Judy took one of the apples; unsure what was proper. Tuck started in on the peach, so she bit into the apple. It was, she thought, something like a red delicious. It was tasty, with a lot of meat to the fruit.

“I am curious, Tuck,” Count Errock said after they were settled and eating. “I have heard from Captain Leitnos and from Lieutenant Gamelin. You feel our enemies have over-committed themselves, even if less than a tenth of the forces they’ve sent are in the field.”

“My Lord Count, a man eats three pounds of food a day. A horse, five or six times that.”

“The Zarthani appear to have less than a thousand cavalry,” Count Errock informed Tuck.

Tuck bobbed his head. “A thousand horses eat what nearly five thousand men eat. A horse out here, Lord Count, is expensive.”

Count Errock nodded in agreement. “That is so, Tuck.”

“Sir, for a thousand men and their horses that means they need eighteen thousand pounds of food a day. A wagon, sir, carries how much? Two thousand pounds?”

“Perhaps fifteen hundred,” the count replied.

“Let us say that then. That means your enemies need a dozen wagons to arrive every day, just with food. A battle? A single battle and they will shoot off a dozen wagonloads of fireseed.”

Tuck looked at the count. “They will need two dozen wagons, more or less, each day just to keep even. About a hundred and fifty horses, who eat a lot themselves, to pull the wagons. Two men per wagon. On the road those wagons are lucky to make ten or fifteen miles a day. Two moon quarters from the river, and two moon quarters back. They need maybe thirty times that many wagons to keep a daily schedule. Seven hundred and fifty wagons, eight thousand horses, and more than fifteen hundred men. Just to bring their supplies for a thousand men and horses.”

Count Errock nodded, looking thoughtful.

“So, stop the wagons. Run off horses. Burn some of the wagons. Block the road. Slow down the supply chain. Double the transit time and they need fifty wagons a day, maybe a thousand five hundred wagons and fifteen thousand horses. That’s what they need to support a thousand cavalry men. If they were to bring up a half million men? A single bad rainstorm would destroy them.”

“You say then, we shouldn’t concentrate on defending our walls, but taking the battle to their road?” Count Errock asked.

“Yes, Count. The road is what I would call a ‘soft target’. It can’t be defended easily. A dozen men can push rocks onto an unguarded stretch of road in the dark of night. A little later, they can shoot into a drover’s camp and panic a few horses, cause men to lose sleep. Raid a remount station and run off the horses there. Ten men, Lord Count, who in one night can do the work of a hundred and stop a thousand.”

“They will simply guard the road,” the count’s wife, Linnea, replied.

“Yes, my lady. Except, they will need a lot of guards! Every man guarding the road is one less who will come against Outpost. And for a road that long, they will need a lot of guards! I understand that this is the only city your High King created this far west.”

Errock nodded, his eyes bright. “I want to save it. I have orders from the High King to burn it and withdraw, if I don’t think I can hold it.”

Tuck turned to Count Errock. “I told Gamelin, and I told Captain Leitnos that I thought trying to hold a town here wasn’t likely to succeed. Your town’s defenses are tremendous, far better than I dreamed! Two or three thousand men can hold it indefinitely! The rest can be used against the road!”

Count Errock smiled thinly. “And if a few thousand of my troops were attacking the road while Outpost was besieged, how would they eat?”

“Establish supply points, Lord Count,” Tuck told him. “Places where you defend supplies. If they come against you, be prepared to move away. Hit them hard, briefly, then leave.”

“This would do what?” Count Errock asked, sounding obstinate.

“Lord, ten groups of two dozen men would be attacking along ten-mile intervals. The enemy could not guarantee their supply schedule.”

“My lady wife said it before,” Errock repeated. “They will just guard the road. What will that bring us?”

Tuck repeated his answer. “Every man who guards the road can’t come here. Stop or delay just one wagonload and a company doesn’t eat well. A thousand men can close that road completely. Then your enemies are a few days from turning from an army into a rabble,” Tuck told them.

“So, a thousand men against the road. You said, three thousand can hold Outpost. What of the other thousand?” Count Errock asked.

Tuck tapped the map, well south. “The Zarthani sound like tough soldiers. Winning against them would be very difficult. Attack the weaker enemy. The Mexicotál.”

“The Mexicotál?” Errock exclaimed. “That’s mad! Armies have marched into that desert and never been seen again! They might not be as skilled with fireseed weapons, they might have only a few of them, but there are tens of thousands of soldiers at the God-King’s beck and call.”

Tuck looked at the count, his face very serious. “Is there much trade with the Mexicotál?”

“Not from here,” the count told him. “They don’t permit it. We hear a few things, but it isn’t much. Most trading with the God-King’s Kingdom is done by ship, far to the south, and by the Zarthani and not us.”

“Tanda Havra’s uncle is a trader. I bet he knows a great deal about the terrain, south of here,” Tuck told him.

Count Errock laughed. “I bet he does, too. But getting a trader to part with secrets like that...it can be expensive.”

“And in wartime, failure to help an ally can be fatal,” Tuck replied.

Judy had followed about ninety percent of what was being said, when Tuck said that, the count inclined his head. He was obviously agreeing with Tuck.

“My Lord, I can help train your officers in tactics and thinking about small raids. That was my task in the war I fought in, training the armies of others.”

“A mercenary!” Errock said, “Like many are.”

Tuck shook his head. “No, I was in the pay of my king, Count Errock, not theirs. I wore my colors, not theirs. I took commands from my officers, not theirs. The greatest of them could not command me to lift a finger.” Tuck chuckled. “And I couldn’t command the least among them to lift a finger, either.”

Count Errock nodded. “The High King has sent teachers among the militias here in the West. It is something I understand, even if others do not.”

Gamelin cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him. “Lord Count, I know I’m the youngest here...”

Judy was sure she understood him. She snorted and everyone except Gamelin laughed. She could see his ears turn red.

“I’m the youngest officer here. Are you seriously considered Tuck’s plan? For a handful of men to skulk in the night, attack our enemies while they sleep, then run off before they wake? That sounds more like banditry than soldiery.”

“I am about to hurt his feelings, Judy,” Tuck told her in English. “Sorry about that.”

“He owes for the ‘youngest’ crack,” Judy said. Tuck smiled.

Count Errock hadn’t understood the words, but he’d watched the byplay. “Tuck, perhaps you might have a few words for the lieutenant, in his youth.”

Tuck nodded and faced Gamelin. “I do not know how fast your army moves. Your High King will come to your aid, is that not right?”

Gamelin nodded. Of course!

“But there may be enemies who oppose him, enemies between him and us. Is that not so?”

Again Gamelin nodded.

“So, not this year. Next year?” Tuck shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe two years? Three?”

“He will come,” Gamelin said obstinately.

“I imagine he will,” Tuck told him. “However, today you face ten to one odds against you, if they bring up as many men as you’ve heard. Unless you stop those men. Both those already here and those coming.

“Count Errock could gather together all of his soldiers, line them up and order them to charge your enemies. You’d hurt them, but you’d all be dead at the end of the battle.”

Judy could see Gamelin nod.

Tuck went on. “How is that going to help the High King? How will it help the women and children of Outpost? You will have made a lot of widows and orphans, and put those widows and orphans at great risk. I’ve been told what happens if the Mexicotál were to capture them. Who could, in good conscience, ride off to his death, knowing he was dooming women and children to such a fate?”

The room was still, except for Tuck’s quiet voice. “Is it banditry when a dozen men attack ten times their number? Is that really the act of a coward? And withdrawing before the enemy can respond–which means they can return and do the same thing again and again. And if they are careful, they can kill ten or a hundred times as many of their enemies as they lose.”

“Attacking in the dark of night, against sleeping enemies lacks honor,” Gamelin told him.

Count Errock laughed. “I remember hearing of the High King speaking to that. ‘We are not fighting this Dralm-damned war for honor! We’re fighting it for survival!’ So are we, Lieutenant!”

Tuck turned back to Count Errock. “Sir, your town is too large for them to bypass, unless they leave a lot of troops to invest it. Expensive troops, hard to supply, plus it would mean an army that daily grows further away from their supply base, with an enemy sitting astride their supplies. No, they have to take it. If they bottle up everyone in the town, then they will win. Perhaps it will take a few moons, or even a year, but in the end, they will win.

“Garrison the town strongly, send the rest into the field, with sufficient provisions hidden for their use. Have some of them attack the road, and have others attack some of the wagon columns. Quick, swift attacks. If nothing else, a few shots at the horses. Raids on the way stations, for they will have to have those, to change horses. Run off a herd of those horses and you cripple that station. If they have a thousand guards but the horses are gone, they might as well not be there.

“But without men outside the walls, Count Errock, you lose.”

Tuck subsided and Count Errock was silent for a while, looking at Tuck. His wife leaned close and whispered something in his ear that Judy couldn’t hear at all. The count smiled at his wife.

“I am told, Tuck, that you know some of our military terminology. ‘ _Shelter half_ ’ for instance.” Shelter half was spoken in English.

Tuck nodded. “I was surprised to hear familiar words here, Lord Count. In my war we also called them ‘pup tents.’”

The count nodded. “And the word ‘ _rifle_.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wish to know if you understand another word. A word that is one of the High King’s greatest secrets. ‘ _Mortar_.’”

Tuck met his eyes. “Yes, Count Errock, I know that word.”

“I don’t,” Gamelin said. Judy wanted to kick him for being so stupid.

“It’s secret,” Judy said, a half second ahead of the count’s wife. She met the eyes of the woman who was old as Tuck. With a start, Judy realized that both of them were thinking the same thing at the same time: Men!

“The High King sent a captain who’d been trained in their use. He seems to have forgotten most of what he learned on the trip here. There are plans and drawings, but their actual use...” Count Errock shook his head. “The High King says they are important. Right now, they are useless to me.”

“Count Errock, in the war I fought, both sides used them. Our enemies were much better than we were with them. Frequently that difference cost us dearly. The only reason we weren’t losing was because we had cannon much larger, much more powerful and accurate, and in greater number.” Tuck paused, then went on, “But, for running around in the dark, scaring your enemies, there’s nothing better.”

Count Errock surprised Judy when he turned to her. “And you, Judybondi. Do you know about mortars?”

“I know of them,” she told him honestly. “At home, I wasn’t a soldier, but I know of them. My brother is a soldier, he was a sergeant, in the same war Tuck fought in.”

“Can you describe one?” the count asked Judy.

Judy looked at Tuck, who simply looked away.

“A tube, sir,” Judy told him. “Knee or waist high, or so. I don’t know how big around. They shoot little bombs.”

“And what keeps this tube up?” the count inquired.

“Legs, sir.”

“How many legs, Judybondi?”

She closed her eyes and tried to remember the pictures she’d seen. “Two, sir. But I’m not sure. I’ve only seen pictures.” The last word was English; she didn’t have a clue what the Zarthani word for picture was.

Tuck supplied it. “A picture is a very detailed drawing, Count Errock.”

The count bowed slightly towards Judy. “Do you know how often I have despaired of teaching junior officers how to say, ‘I don’t know, sir’ or ‘I’m not sure, sir?’”

Judy shook her head, not really understanding.

“It is a problem common in all armies, Lord Count,” Tuck volunteered.

“Judybondi,” Count Errock added, “to command you must value yourself; you must be confident. Yet, like all traits, these traits can be two-edge weapons. Many are so confident that they do not think they are ever wrong and if they are wrong, they won’t admit it. We try to teach differently, but...” he spread his hands expressively.

“A tough row to hoe, anywhere,” Tuck said in English again. “You did good just now, Judy.”

“Tuck,” Count Errock said. Tuck looked at him.

“Tomorrow at dawn, I’d like you to meet with the officer the High King sent with the mortars. He brought two sergeants with him. One knows less than his officer, the other is young, but seems to know what he’s about. They will show you what we have. You show them some of what you know. It will be some distance from town as this is truly one of the High King’s great secrets.”

“Can I go with Tuck, Lord Count?” Judy asked.

The count looked at her, then at Tuck. Before he could speak, his wife again whispered in his ear. His face lit in a smile. “Judybondi, if I told you that Lieutenant Gamelin will have his own duties to attend to tomorrow, would you still wish to go?”

Judy flushed, and she saw Gamelin’s ears turn red. “Yes, sir.”

“Why?” The question came from Linnea.

Judy met her eyes, not those of her husband. “I have a very comfortable room. I had a hot bath not so long ago. There is a comfortable bed.” Judy waved at the fruit on the table. “There is food to eat. I do not know what I can do to help, but I will find something.”

Errock grinned. “When I told my wife that I was going to send the women and children east, she told me that the only way she would go would be tied to a saddle. She told me not to even think about trying to send her away.” He bowed slightly to Judy once again.

“Judybondi, you are young, but you have the heart of a Hostigi!”

The other officers slapped their hands on the table. “Hear, hear!”

“Does that mean yes?” Judy asked.

There was laughter at the table. “Do not ask me, Judybondi,” the count replied. “Ask Tuck.”

With all of the support, Judy expected Tuck to nod and say yes. Instead he shook his head. “First, we will talk. Judybondi and myself.”

“As it should be,” the count told him. “Now, please, return to your rooms. Relax. Tonight there will be a dinner for my officers and their families. Between now and then, I have to decide whether or not to send the families away.” He stood, and everyone else in the room scrambled to their feet. He left, his wife at his side.

II

Errock put his feet up on a hassock, and accepted a cup of wine Linnea poured. “As usual, you had sage advice, my fair Linnea.”

“You share everything with me, my husband! I listened to the reports of those you sent south. The stripling, the veteran sergeant and the veteran of those that came with my brother and I to Thagnor.”

“And it was on your advice that I didn’t welcome a man you’ve fought side by side for more than a year with open arms. Instead, I’m using him as spy.”

“He had many interesting things to say,” Linnea replied. “About the young count-to-be, about the veteran, about this man Tuck and the women with him. Now we have heard from this Tuck himself.”

Errock sipped from his cup. “What he says is truth. When we gather up everyone inside the walls we’ll have seven or eight thousand men. Half of them with minimal training. The idea of attacking their road is devilishly clever. We can probably get ten or fifteen thousand of the Zarthani guarding the road. That is probably one man in three coming against us.

“Like as not there is a Mexicotál road out there as well. Our scouts will need to find them and spy them out. We can attack it as well.”

“One of the things you excel at, my husband, is picking competent subordinates. This Tuck is both an opportunity and a danger. Give him a difficult task; set aside the man the High King sent you. He is a drunk, and I suspect he is a coward as well. Set aside the senior sergeant sent with him. He is a coward, and I’m sure that he stays drunk not to think about the possibility of his death.

“See what this Tuck knows about mortars. The High King said that a junior officer can learn to be an artillery man in a few moon quarters.

“Send the young woman with him.”

Errock laughed. “You will get me in trouble with the High King for recruiting a girl not yet husband high!”

“She will be husband high in less than two moons, my husband! Send the young count-to-be with them. If he can learn about mortars with that kind of distraction a few feet away you’ll know the truth about the mortars.”

“What are the dangers that you spoke of?” Errock asked.

“As with any man, there are risks. That he will betray you, that he will work against you, or that he is not what he says he is.”

The count smiled. “A look at his weapons tells you everything you need to know about a man. His friends are an even better tell-tale.

“This Tuck carries a rifle and pistol. The pistol shoots six times before needing to be reloaded, like the weapon the High King carried when he first walked among us. The rifle can fire an amazing ten times, as fast as you can pull the trigger. Ten times, Linnea!

“It has a shorter barrel by far of any weapon of the High King’s! Still, he can hit accurately out to a half mile!

“The four young women are a study as well. The tallest is indeed not as old as husband high! But such a heart! It takes a lot to impress your man! All of the women hurt! Three had had some experience riding, but not much and not recently! They kept up! The tall one and the older one, killed Mexicotál soldiers! With knives!

“If Tuck is false, then I am no judge of men! Even the tall one recognizes a debt to us! Unbidden!”

Linnea chuckled. “You like them! Well, I like them! The young women are tough, they are brave, and they are willing to help us! We have talked about attacking those who come against us, and we knew we had to be careful. Tuck seems to know how to do that. Set aside two of the three the High King has sent with the mortars. Then we can talk again about what we want to do next!”

III

Gamelin walked back to his quarters, dejected. He hadn’t said much and much of what he’d said had been rejected or laughed at. The discussion of pride and confidence at the end had seemed a little pointed.

Vosper was dozing at the table and woke when Gamelin came in. “My Lord, how did you fare?”

“When I wasn’t being chastised, I was blushing.”

Vosper grimaced. “My Lord, you must trust me. Being chastised is what a new officer spends much of his time doing. Blushing is something a man newly in love spends a lot of time doing.”

Gamelin couldn’t stop his blush once again. He took a firm grip on himself. “Do you know what a mortar is?”

Vosper looked at Gamelin. “I know it is one of the High King’s greatest secrets. Which means it’s stupid to talk about it.”

“Tuck knows about them. Judybondi described one.”

Vosper sucked air. “Junior sergeant Golios accompanied Captain Stadio and Senior Sergeant Freyon here from Hostigos with the new weapons. Captain Stadio is, Sergeant Golios tells me, a simpleton and Freyon a drunk. I’ve met both men and Golios is right. I think Captain Stadio is a coward as well; Freyon certainly is.”

“Tuck, and perhaps Judybondi, will go out with them tomorrow, to learn about the new weapons. Count Errock said I would have something else to do.”

“My Lord,” Vosper replied, “Golios said some things you should know, then. That it is easy to lose a hand, operating a mortar. That a mortar is a small cannon and just like its larger brethren, having your hand in front of it when it goes off is bad. Very bad.”

“A small cannon?” Gamelin concentrated. Judibondi had said it was a tube on two legs. That didn’t sound much like a cannon. Well, a cannon was a tube, he supposed.

Vosper laughed, “Ah, to be hung for violating the High King’s secrets! My Lord, Golios said that while it’s a cannon, it’s a cannon that a man can lean down and pick up in his arms.”

Gamelin blinked, stunned. A cannon one man could lift?

“Golios is not a drunk, a coward or a simpleton. He is a man who is proud and frustrated, and he wants to see his cannon used. He says that they are as accurate as a sharpshooter is, at a range of a mile.”

That wasn’t, Gamelin thought, all that accurate.

Vosper though, read his expression accurately. “Lieutenant, a bullet is a small thing, and a three foot circle is huge, a mile away. But that’s how close good sharpshooters get to their targets. Mortars, Lieutenant, aren’t bullets. They are fireseed bombs. Each contains about a hundred rifle loads of fireseed and the bomb explodes when it hits the ground. It makes a hole about a foot across. Further, besides the fireseed there are two dozen musket balls around the fireseed.”

Or, Gamelin thought, a sharpshooter at a mile was likely to miss, but a mortar would likely not.

How was he going to arrange to be there, tomorrow morning?

There was a knock on his door and Vosper got up to get it.

A heartbeat later, Vosper bobbed his head. “Lord Count, I was just leaving!”

Gamelin looked up and saw Count Errock standing in his door.

“I want to talk to you too, Sergeant. Come and sit!” The count waved at Gamelin at the table.

The three of them sat. It made Gamelin feel a little better to notice Vosper had commenced to sweat.

“Lieutenant, I told you in public, that you had done your duty. Now, I tell you in private, you did your duty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you, Sergeant. I understand you’ve given the Lieutenant your Oath.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“A good choice, for both of you.”

The count turned to Gamelin. “I talked to Captain Leitnos about the battle you fought.”

“Yes, sir. We were lucky.”

“Lieutenant, in war, soldiers make mistakes. You and those you fight. It’s the nature of things. Their leader made a foolish mistake and you had placed yourself well to take advantage of that mistake. That is, Lieutenant, the High King’s method of winning battles. I know to my bitter regret.”

“Sir, without Tuck and his rifle and pistol...we might still have won, but the battle would have been much harder fought and much dearer won.”

“And you might have been motivated to find a better position or a superior plan. You can, Lieutenant, second guess a battle from now until the end of time. What if the enemy had done that, instead of what he did? What if you’d done something else and the battle shifted in their favor?

“In the High King’s Academy you studied many battles. There was a reason for that: so you would understand the basic ideas. Understand another thing, Lieutenant: you are no longer in the High King’s Academy. This is real. If you make a mistake and survive, learn from what happens. If the other side makes mistakes, take advantage. Kill them! That’s why the High King sent you here. That’s what they will do to you if you make a mistake. Never, ever forget.”

“Yes, sir,” Gamelin said humbly.

“Tomorrow morning, Lieutenant, you will stand at my left hand. You, Sergeant Vosper, will stand at your lieutenant’s left hand. Tuck will be on my right, and Judybondi on his right. Do you understand?”

Gamelin understood where he was supposed to be, and said so. Other than that, understanding failed him.

“Tomorrow morning, Lieutenant, I am going to set aside a captain and a senior sergeant. I would like to think they are reasonable men and will go quietly. I have been wrong in the past and I may well be wrong to worry now. Still, you will be there and you will have rifles and pistols at the ready. Am I clear?

“Yes, sir!” Gamelin and Vosper chorused.

“Then Tuck will get with the other sergeant, Golios, in charge of the mortars. Both of you will observe. I am deadly serious here. The High King’s message to me said that a child could fire a mortar. Except a captain and a senior sergeant can’t.”

“Judybondi,” Gamelin breathed, in understanding.

“Exactly so, Lieutenant, exactly so. To be sure, I have no doubt that the High King told me the truth and Captain Stadio is merely incompetent. But it would be a bit of good news, I think, to send to the High King that I trained a young girl in the use of mortars and she understood.”

Vosper actually had the temerity to laugh, then.

Count Errock ignored Vosper. “Lieutenant, I’m neither heartless, nor am I blind. Nor am I a matchmaker, I leave that to my wife. Both Tuck and Judybondi spoke of the debt they owe us. But then, we all know the debt we owe the High King, do we not?”

Gamelin nodded. Vosper was wordier, “Aye, Lord!”

“I will see the two of you later, in the officer’s mess.”

“Me, Lord?” Vosper asked, startled.

“You, Sergeant. You are your Lord’s man now. He should have someone attending him.”

Vosper dipped his head, signing agreement.

When the count had left, Vosper turned to Gamelin. “Lord, I know my place. I never meant to advance my place.”

“Vosper, one thing the High King has taught us all: a man’s place is what he earns by the sweat of his brow and the deeds he achieves. Thoughts fill our heads; the High King’s way is to reward those who make their dreams manifest. You have them and I have them. Your place, Vosper, is at my side. And I promise you, Sergeant, I’ll never be far from yours!”

The two men clasped hands and then parted to make their individual preparations.

IV

Tanda Havra adjusted her tunic, and then walked out of her room. Manistewa was already there. He offered her his arm and she took it. Chief Hadron was well known in the lands of Hostigos, so her being seen here would be a terrible violation of the Paratime Secret, so she remained down three levels, behind armor-plated doors.

“I received a message a short while ago,” Manistewa told her as they walked up the hill, towards the Hostigi town. “Count Errock wants to talk to me about what we know about the lands of the Mexicotál.”

Tanda kept walking, ignoring him.

He chuckled, “Yes, I understand. Understand that the chief has an inside track at the top. We are the official Hostigos spymasters to the northern lands of the Mexicotál. I run a network in each of the three cities of their Northern Regime. This network is known to Duke Skranga, who heads the High King’s spies. Not the details, mind you, but that it exists. Skranga told me several times that Count Errock wasn’t to be included in the loop.”

“And you are telling me this because...?” Tanda inquired.

“Because, dear niece, there is not the least chance that they don’t suspect you of being part and parcel of my network. Count Errock is many things–he is smart enough to know we’re here and who we are, among them.”

“Really?” Tanda asked, sarcasm dripping.

“So relax, enjoy. You’re a Paracop now. I will brief you later tonight and the two of us will show up tomorrow on the count’s doorstep for the meeting.”

And, Tanda knew, the count wasn’t going to be surprised at all to see her. How could she face the villagers? Tazi? She sighed. The only way she could do that would be if the secret held. Tanda sighed again.

They reached the citadel and were passed inside with a minimum of fuss. The hall the dinner was being held in was several hundred feet long, about a quarter of that wide. People swarmed in the room, officers and ladies of the garrison, servants and hangers on.

A harassed junior sergeant bobbed his head when he saw Manistewa. “Sir, you and your niece, please come with me.”

They followed him through the room, a table the full width of the room filling it from wall to wall, and other tables further from the head of the room. Tanda was surprised that they were seated at the head table. True, the table held twenty people, but it was, she thought, remarkable. Count Errock and his wife were on one side, their backs closest to the wall. On one side of the count were Tuck and his four charges. On the other side was the count’s wife, and then Manistewa and Tanda. Facing them were the senior officers of the garrison. The only exception to that was Gamelin and his sergeant, sitting directly across from the count and his wife.

The meal was, Tanda thought, interesting. For here and now, the food was outstanding. On the other hand, it wasn’t as good as the food the students at the University ate at the cafeteria, food eaten with cutlery that was finer, off flatware that was also finer than any here.

Abruptly, she realized that some of the conditioning she was used to was gone. Being able to think such thoughts meant you might inadvertently say something that didn’t belong. She glanced at Manistewa next to her, who was happily conversing with Count Errock about prospects for another town, should the war end in the High King’s favor.

At the end of the meal, Count Errock stood and did as so many on so many timelines had done before him: rapped his knife against the side of his crystal wine glass.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” the count began. “Not that any of you had a choice...”

There was a ripple of laughter through the room.

“I will start with the one thing most of you want to hear.

“I have thought long and hard. We face thousands of enemies. Five, ten, perhaps a hundred times our number. I have no idea of what’s happening to our east, but it isn’t much of a stretch to believe that if the Mexicotál come against Outpost, they are marching on Xiphlon as well. Some of my senior officers took part in the planning for what we’d do in the event we decide to evacuate dependents. Northeast, into the canyon lands, then further east, across the Great Mountains. Staying north, we could make our way down the Great Mountain River, to the Father of Rivers. From there, we could reach safety in Hostigos, without fear.

“Still, that is a journey of a thousand miles to where our dependents would be safe. Not one of us, husbands and fathers, brothers and sons, are comfortable with that. Which ignores the thoughts of our wives and mothers, sisters, sons, and daughters.

“My wife reminded me. I need the services of each and every person I can find to help defend Outpost. Perhaps it isn’t the best name ever given a town, but it’s our town!”

There was a small amount of clapping, some shouts.

“So, I will dispatch a column to take those who wish to go. Women and children, a few soldiers. It will be dangerous to leave, but it will be dangerous to stay. I can’t make up your minds for you. My wife tells me that she will be at my side, if the enemy break the walls. Our two children, my wife tells me, will be on their way east.

“That is her solution, my solution. Your solutions must be yours.

“We will hold Outpost against those who come against us. Just that. I will do whatever it is I have to do to keep this town. If you stay, I can promise nothing but blood and sweat, lots and lots of sweat. We have a great deal to do, even now, to prepare our defenses. You have two days to tell me what you wish. Once you tell me, you may not change your mind. Wives and families who wish to leave–you have my regards and respect. Remember, my children will be with you.”

The room was quiet, much quieter, Tanda thought, than she’d ever heard from such a large group.

“Across from me is Junior Lieutenant Gamelin, who led the patrol that reported the invasion. He lost one man in five–a hard, hard number. But that was his task: find the enemy, count them and get word back. He did all of those.”

The count tossed a small pin that landed in front of Gamelin, bounced and stopped. “Thank you for your devotion to your duty, Senior Lieutenant Gamelin.”

Gamelin looked like he’d been pole-axed, Tanda thought. At a guess, he hadn’t thought promotion was in the cards. Why would he think that? Because he’d spoken to Count Errock. An interesting tidbit about both men.

“Sitting next to me is Tuck, a traveler from afar, banished into our lands as once was the High King. With Tuck are four young women in his care. Lady Judybondi,” he indicated Judy, and Tanda watched the young girl’s reaction carefully, “is Tuck’s right hand. Please, these young ladies have been wrenched from all they’ve known and thrust into our war. Be kind, be considerate.”

Another pause, with Count Errock looking around. Finally he spoke again.

“I’ve heard how Tuck is Lord Tuck, brother to the High King. Except he denies even knowing the High King, much less being his brother. He claims no noble rank, just that he was a captain of infantry.

“He was cast away among us, with young women to escort. He’s fought and killed our enemies. His young women have fought and killed our enemies. He has ideas for fighting our enemies that will mean a great deal in the days to come. In short, Dralm sent and Galzar taught!”

The room erupted in thunderous applause and cheers. Tanda glanced sideways at Manistewa who could only shrug. Nothing here was about the Paratime Secret, just brave words from a brave man, facing doom.

Later there was music and Lydia, one of Tuck’s charges, joined in with a guitar. It was, Tanda thought, a tour-de-force. She’d already heard the rumors running the tables that Judybondi was cast from the same mold as the High Queen, Lady Dalla and Count Errock’s wife. That the others had taken the loss of their families hard and were only now coming to accept their fate.

Later, walking back to Manistewa’s compound, both of them were silent. Inside, he turned to her. “I have a spy or two.”

“Really?” Tanda said, her voice filled with sarcasm.

“Tomorrow, early, Tuck, Judybondi, Gamelin, Vosper and a sergeant sent by the High King with a new weapon will get together. Be there.”

“And I will explain this, how?”

“I sent a message to Tazi that you wanted to look for herbs at first light. The two of you find a good spot and watch what they do.”

He smiled at her. He kept that smile, even if she had shifted slightly and was now holding a knife to his throat.

“My people, Mannie, are off-limits. If you ever involve one again without my say-so, I’ll kill you.”

“Such hostility,” he said, his voice breaking nervously, even though he was trying to make a joke.

“Deserved hostility, Manny! I realize you goofballs from Home Time Line think your shit doesn’t stink and ours does to high heaven. Think again, Mannie!”

She expected him to tell her he was just obeying orders. Instead, he reached up and pushed the knife offline with just one finger.

“Tanda, I was wrong, okay? This was just me, not anyone else.”

“Sure, Manny, of course. You’re showboating for your boss.”

“I said I was sorry. I promise I’ll never to do it again,” he told her.

“You better not. You might not catch me on a good day!”


	13. Settling In

I

Tanda Havra was out early the next morning, meeting Tazi on the landing of the outer town. “Come, walk with me,” Tanda said to the younger girl and they walked along the road that led around the lake, to the south.

The sun was just coming up; the morning was briskly chill, but promised to be much warmer later. Tanda stopped after a bit and pointed to some rocks. “Come and sit, I want to talk.”

Tazi did, obviously curious.

“Manistewa is a trader, do you understand?”

Tazi bobbed her head, agreeing. Everyone in Mogdai knew he was a trader.

“Tazi, I swear to you, I did not work for my uncle.”

Tazi frowned, puzzled at what Tanda had said. “You worked in the village, Tanda. You collected herbs, you prepared medicines.”

“I did. There is, Tazi, not much money to be made doing that. I came away from Mogdai, like you, with nothing. Money was nothing in Mogdai, but here it is much more.”

Tanda changed subjects.

“A trader needs to know things. He needs to know safe routes, he needs to know how dangerous a journey will be, he needs to know what the people at the other end of the journey need and what they have to sell him.”

“I understand,” Tazi told her.

“Understand, until now, I have never worked for my uncle. Never. Now, however, I am a beggar. And now I am going to have to work for him.”

“Telling him things?”

“Yes. Finding out things and telling them to him. Still, I lived in Mogdai. I freely shared what I had with the others of the village and they shared with me. That means more to me than my uncle. Last night, he sent a man to tell you I wanted you to be here. He lied, I knew nothing of it.

“From this day forward, Tazi, do not let anyone command you in my name unless you hear the words from my lips.”

“Is he going to force you to marry him?” Tazi asked, wide-eyed with concern.

Tanda smiled. “No, he likes to sleep at night. He knows that if he tried that, that first night he’d not wake up, ever again.”

Tazi clapped her hands together and laughed. The villagers knew about such things and would have felt sadness for her, but would never have dreamed of interfering.

Tanda watched her, having the advantage of knowing that Manistewa’s interest in her was entirely feigned. But it was a classic story and, as such, had considerable utility.

“Now, we are going to look for Lord Tuck, Gamelin, Judybondi and a few others. I want to watch them. My uncle wants me to watch them,” she corrected herself.

They went about another mile and found a vantage point where they could see out over the lake.

And almost at once, she saw a raft part way across the lake. Tanda mentally kicked herself. The raft was headed towards the eastern shore, not the western shore and the Outer Town. It was a large raft, propelled by a half dozen men on sweeps. There were a dozen horses and as many men aboard as well. Tuck was easy to spot, because of his hat. Judybondi was aboard as well. She was also easy to see, as she was the tallest person on the raft.

“Looks like we get to run, sister!” Tanda told her companion. She waved around them. “We might meet the enemy.”

“I have my knife,” Tazi said proudly. “And the rifle the Hostigi said I could keep.”

“And I have mine. I also have a pistol my uncle gave me.” She showed Tazi the weapon, carried in her herb bag. “The next time, you too will have one!”

“Let us run, older sister!” Tazi said, starting off.

Tanda fell in step next to her and they did run. The raft had about a mile and a half to cover; they had to cover something like six miles. On the other hand, Tanda and Tazi didn’t have a dozen horses that would need unloading from the raft, and which would then would have to be mounted. That would take time. And while a horse could run faster over short distances, a human could run farther faster if they were good runners. Tanda and Tazi were very good runners.

Good runners or not, evidently Tuck and those with him were efficient, because they reached shore, quickly offloaded the horses and were off in a column, heading further eastwards.

Tuck and his party were quickly lost to sight. The ground on that side of the lake was rougher, with low hills back a mile or so from the edge of the water.

A palm width later Tanda and Tazi reached the top of a ridge, going slowly. Ahead, out in a small flat basin, Tuck and his party were gathered around something.

For a finger width Tanda was mildly frustrated, but eventually the normal movements of the people left an opening large enough and long enough for her to recognize what was on the ground and the subject of their attention.

A simple tube mortar, a basic infantry combat weapon. Since it was not possible for Tuck to have designed one and had it built overnight, it meant that it was something in the regular service of Hostigos–which meant, in practice, the High King.

For more than a palm width the men stood around and talked, a lot of talk, Tanda thought.

Tazi, after a few finger widths, grew bored. “What are they doing?”

Tanda smiled. “I don’t know. I think Manistewa doesn’t know either. So I will watch and tell him what I see.”

“What Tuck did yesterday,” Tazi went on, “naming our sister ‘Shining Path!’ That was a good thing!”

“It was,” Tanda agreed. She took her eyes off the activity in front of her and turned to face Tazi. “Sometimes simple men, faced with something extraordinary, do extraordinary things.” Tazi nodded in agreement. “And that’s simple men. What great men do in extraordinary circumstances is powerful; grandeur to behold. As the Hostigi learned when High King Kalvan came to Hostigos,” Tanda continued.

“And now Tuck has appeared. The High King knew how to rally armies to his banner. He knew how to arm them and how to fight them. I think Tuck is a man who can sneak through the blackest night, strike an enemy and be away before any know he is there. Count Errock does not have an army that can fight the Zarthani or the Mexicotál separately. Combined their armies will easily defeat the count and his soldiers. Except for Tuck. It will be a terrible beauty to behold, Tazi. But unless something happens to him, everyone will be amazed. As amazed as they were when the High King came amongst them.”

“And Judybondi? Becky? Lydia? Elspeth...the one who is with child?”

“A child fathered by rape,” Tanda reminded her young friend.

“There are times when I wish we could rip such from our bellies and leave the ill-sown seed for the wolves.”

Tanda didn’t speak. On the civilized timelines the debate had raged for years and years. Home Time Line citizens were the ultimate pragmatists: if an abortion was what you wanted, then do it. Their laws were relatively loose, so long as you weren’t hurting or stealing from others. Or breaking the Paratime Secret.

The morning wore on and for a change something was going on down the hill and across the basin. Men were moving back, leaving Tuck and a man Tanda didn’t recognize at the mortar. After a heartbeat, the unknown man dropped a round and a few heartbeats later Tanda heard the chuff of the explosion.

Tazi looked up, curious. The spy business, Tanda thought, was tricky. She could have given it all away just by warning Tazi what was going to happen.

Instead, the explosion racketed around the hills, and Tazi was now close to the ground, peering into the distance.

“What was that?” Tazi asked.

Tanda shook her head, while watching Tuck and the other man, probably a sergeant, talking for a moment. Then Tuck leaned down and did something to the mortar. Adjusting the aiming, Tanda thought.

Another heartbeat later another chuff, followed a few moments later by another explosion.

“You should get down, Tanda,” Tazi said earnestly. “It sounds like there is a cannon out there, far off now. But the Mexicotál can move very fast, when they want to surprise you.”

Tanda had seen the bloom of the second round hitting; it was about twenty feet from a small pine tree, standing at a distance from the others around it. Tuck bent down again, and a moment later a third round flew.

The tree shattered, falling over as black smoke shrouded the red heart of an explosion.

“I think,” Tanda said evenly, “that little thing is a cannon.”

Tazi looked. “It is too small, elder sister! Cannons are huge!”

“Remember those are the High King’s men!” Tanda reminded her. “They are famous for making things that seem huge, small and understandable.”

Tazi moved a bit, and then stood higher, shading her eyes so that she could see better. Below, it was Tuck whose head turned first in their direction. Then Judybondi’s, then the old sergeant Vosper. All of them staring in their direction.

“Tazi, do not move! They’ve seen you!”

Tazi did as bid, and then saw the men looking at her.

“Elder sister! I have hurt you! What are we going to do?”

“You, Tazi, will turn around and walk slowly towards me and over the hill. Then we will run quickly over there,” Tanda pointed to an outcropping a few hundred feet away. “We will stuff our bags with thrush willow!”

Tazi moved, while Tanda watched from cover. Gamelin and the old sergeant and another man were coming their way. When they reached the spot Tanda wanted, they bent and quickly began collected thrush willow leaves, which were useful in several ways, particularly if your bowels were reluctant to move.

The sergeant, Vosper, was polite but firm and a finger width later they joined the others, the mortar hidden in a pack on one of the horses. They followed along, Tanda not bothering to protest, just as they didn’t bother to ask any questions about what they’d been doing watching the test of their weapon.

They walked back toward Outpost, not exactly guarded but certainly not free to go their own way.

They reached a flat spot, a mile from the lake. Tuck turned to Gamelin. “I wish to speak to Tanda Havra privately.”

Gamelin looked at Tuck, then at Tanda and shrugged.

Tuck took Tanda’s arm, rather more gently than the last time the two of them laid hands on each other and walked with her.

“You sure have screwed up,” Tuck told her, speaking English.

“I don’t understand you, Lord Tuck.”

“The language or what I mean?” That was in Zarthani.

“Your words, Lord Tuck.”

“Sure, of course you don’t understand,” Tuck said sarcastically in English.

Tanda shook her head and he laughed.

“If you were stupid, you wouldn’t be here,” he told her, still in English. Then he switched back to Zarthani. “You know, Count Errock will probably have you both shot.”

“Why, Lord Tuck? Tazi and I were collecting herbs. It is what I do.”

He shook his head. “I hope you won’t lie to the count. He strikes me as a fair man, but even fair men don’t like being lied to.”

“How, Lord Tuck, are you going to earn your keep at Outpost? Eh? Like me, you have very little. What’s up here,” she tapped her skull, “this is all we have.”

“And your point?”

“I have an uncle who wishes me to marry him. In the past he made things–difficult–for me. Now, I am here as a beggar, and so is Tazi. Once again he has asked me to do things for him. Things I would never do on my own, but now I have little choice...unless I wish to marry him.”

Tuck smiled. “Actually, I was thinking something along those lines myself.”

Tanda looked at him, shaking her head. “I do not understand, Lord Tuck.”

“It’s Tuck, Tanda Havra, nothing more. No matter what they might say about it, it was how I was born and how I expected to die. No, I was thinking that I’ve taken a fancy to you myself.”

Tanda smiled wickedly. “My uncle keeps his fancies in check because he knows that if he tried to force them on me, the first night we were together, he’d not wake, come morning.”

“I figured that out by myself,” Tuck told her, grinning. “No, I was figuring on picking a good time and simply asking you, straight out. Your free choice, yes or no.”

Tanda stared at him, surprised. “And why would someone who will be noble soon, marry a village woman of the Lost Ruthani?”

“Does being a village woman mean you can’t be a lovable person? That a man might want to count his lucky stars if you agreed to be his wife?”

She shook her head, confused. “My uncle would not pay a dowry.”

Of course, Tuck didn’t know what that word meant, but he’d come far and fast, Tanda thought–he didn’t take long to learn it.

He waved at her. “And I come with more? I have four daughters. How much is this bride price?”

“The Hostigi don’t use it at all. It was very common among my people long ago, but too many have come north, escaping the Mexicotál with nothing.”

“So then, no problem for you and no problem for me!” he said.

“The problem is being caught watching where I should not have been.”

Tuck shook his head. “I think Count Errock is a fair man. Look him in the eye; tell him what you told me about why you did it. Then promise him you will not talk to your uncle about things you shouldn’t if he will promise not to ask you questions about your uncle.”

Tanda sniffed. “Why would he believe me? Why should he?”

Tuck bowed slightly. “Why? I’ll vouch for you. If you go to the chopping block, so do I.”

That drew her breath away. “And why would you trust me?”

“Husbands and wives trust each other...that or better never to marry. Better not even go a little distance down that road. In truth, even without my help, Count Errock is likely to do little more than warn you and your uncle. I’m certain your uncle could work something out with Count Errock to keep you safe.”

Tanda’s mental whirl faded a bit. “I had not planned on marrying any time soon.”

“Tanda Havra, I’m the most patient man you will ever meet. Think on it. You have until we face Count Errock to ask me for my help. And until I hear a flat ‘no’ from you, I’m going to be hanging around, hoping for the best. You could, for instance, say it right this instant.”

Tanda shook her head. “You are right, I have to think on this.”

Tuck nodded, his face bland. “We have a saying where I come from,” he switched to English. “Keep your friends close and your enemies, closer.” He smiled at her. “That more or less means ‘Think first if you can.’”

It meant, in fact, no such thing.

“Do you love me?” Tanda asked him.

“I think so, but in truth I’m not one hundred percent sure myself. I like you a lot and respect you enormously. Like you, I’ve never been in a hurry to marry. The gods will provide, given long enough, I always thought.”

He gestured back towards the others. “Come, we should go.”

She followed him docilely, knowing that it was another test. She could turn and run, deserting Tazi and her uncle. She could stick a knife in Tuck’s back while she was about it. It wouldn’t be physically hard to do. Even if it went against everything she’d ever thought or felt.

One of the sergeants with the party, with Vosper at his side, was on a small hill, signaling towards Outpost. Tanda let her face stay blank.

Tazi whispered to her a little later, as they walked beside the mounted men. “We’re in trouble. Perhaps we should run.”

Tanda shook her head. “My uncle will keep us safe. Tuck told me that he would see that we are safe.”

Tazi frowned, “Why would he do that? Tuck?”

Tanda laughed softly. “Why, he fancies me, too.”

Tazi nodded. “And you?”

Tanda smiled. “I fancy him more than I fancy Manistewa. But that isn’t a great deal. I don’t know, Tazi. It is something to think about.”

Tazi nodded.

II

Gamelin had asked Tuck what he’d talked to Tanda Havra about, but Tuck just shook his head and didn’t answer. When they reached Outpost, a half dozen men appeared to deal with their equipment and horses, and Captain Leitnos who told off those who would go to see the count.

It was late afternoon when they gathered in Count Errock’s Council Hall. The count and his wife stood at the head of the long table that filled half the room. Tuck and Judybondi, Gamelin and Vosper and Captain Leitnos were on one side of the table. Manistewa was there, across the table, with two of his guards, one on each side of the trader.

Count Errock was brief and quick. “Tanda Havra, did you go to spy upon the activities of my subjects?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who for?”

“My uncle, sir.”

“Manistewa, do you have an explanation for this?”

Manistewa shrugged. “Lord Count, good friends should never spy on their allies. It’s rude.”

Abruptly Manistewa put his hand on the arm of the man to his left and propelled him forward. “This one, for instance, Lord Count, I would highly recommend him. He is a hard worker, always volunteering for extra duty, always eager to learn as much as he can. He is probably loyal to a fault, to the right man. Alas, I find I no longer have need for his services. Perhaps he could return to your employ?”

Gamelin nearly choked, only to be nudged by Sergeant Vosper and glared at by Captain Leitnos.

“Lord Count,” Tuck interjected in the silence that had formed, “I wish to speak.”

Gamelin waited for the count to round on Tuck for the interruption, or hotly deny that he’d placed a spy among Manistewa’s guards.

“Speak, Tuck; I am curious.”

“In my land, we have different customs. One of them is that we let our friends know where our minds are in regards to important things.” He nodded at Tanda Havra. “I rather like Tanda Havra. I like her very much. I wanted you to know that, before I spoke further. Perhaps one day I will ask her to marry me.

“In my country, Count Errock, allies try to be gentlemen when spying on each other. The sides exchange formal representatives called ‘attachés.’ These attachés’ job is to accompany their allies’ military in the field, where they watch training, they view new weapons...they do a host of things. In this way, true allies know that their allies are not plotting against them; they know this because they see it with their own eyes.

“Of course, a trader like Manistewa would not normally be treated as such a valued ally. This was king-to-king, you see. But, Lord Count, tell me, what will happen to these, the Lost Ruthani, as I’ve heard them called, if you are defeated or are forced to withdraw?”

“They will all be killed or enslaved,” Count Errock said, his eyes on Tuck.

Tuck nodded. “That gives them an interest in what you are doing, particularly in regards to them. If you were to leave suddenly, without letting them know in time to make their own preparations...that would not be the act of a true ally.”

“It is something I would never do,” Count Errock said solemnly.

“I know that, you know that, your people know that. But you ask Manistewa and his people to take you at your word. Meaning no disrespect, sir, it is his duty, Lord Count, to be sure.” Tuck nodded to Manistewa’s former guard, standing woodenly without expression a few feet away from everyone else. “As it is your duty to insure that Manistewa or others of his folk aren’t trading information to your enemies, in hopes for better treatment later.”

“So what would you have me do?”

“Let Manistewa appoint Tanda Havra a military attaché with your forces, while you appoint someone to be an attaché with Manistewa–perhaps the fine young man Manistewa was praising a short while ago. If you agree, of course. And if, after time, you feel that Manistewa or Tanda Havra aren’t trustworthy, then you can tell them so and pull back your attaché, as they would theirs. I, for one, wouldn’t mind watching Tanda Havra at all. I would watch her quite closely.”

Captain Leitnos could see that Count Errock was thinking about it, and it was he who interrupted the count.

“My Lord! You can’t be seriously thinking about this! They are Ruthani, Lord! What secrets do Ruthani hold?”

Count Errock laughed. “Oh, Manistewa has a secret or two, do you not? And the Ruthani have many secrets! All men, Captain Leitnos, have secrets. Aye, and our women too!”

“Lord Count,” Tuck interjected again, “gentlemen understand that there are some secrets more important than other secrets. One thing such gentlemen do is tell attachés where they may not go. And if they are found there, they are expelled. Lord Count, there is honor for all parties in a fair exchange.”

“Truth!” Manistewa spoke for the first time. “I do have secrets, as do my people. I have no objection to Tuck’s plan.”

“And neither do I,” Count Errock said. The count looked at Captain Leitnos. “Understand, Captain, it has always been the High King’s way to treat his allies fairly. This is fair.”

It took a while to work out details, but long before the evening meal, it was done.

“An amazing thing,” Vosper said to Gamelin, as they sat later in the mess.

Gamelin looked at Tuck, seated with Judybondi and his other three charges at the main table.

“Yes,” Gamelin said softly. “Each time Tuck does something amazing. Everything he did today was amazing. From staring down that captain this morning, to firing the small cannon, to just now in the Council Chamber.” Gamelin shook his head in wonder. “It is truly amazing.”

Vosper spoke slowly. “My older brother, when he heard that his company would take part in the High King’s assault on Tarr-Dombra, thought himself dead. He wrote me, bequeathing me all of his possessions. Instead, he came away hale and victorious. One man in his company took a minor wound to his leg.”

Gamelin met Vosper’s eyes. “Against the host that comes against us, I don’t think we will fare as well.”

Vosper laughed, shaking his head. “Think, my Lord! Think! You are a hostler, watching a herd of dray horses. Out in the dark, you hear a number of thumps, then surprise! Explosions march across your station! The sound the mortars make is indistinct; you will have a hard time finding them. The horses will flee, those not killed. The guards will have to spend their night fearing another attack, and then spend their day rounding up the stock that fled. A few sharp ambushes, my Lord, and they will have to bunch up to seek the stock.”

“And perhaps,” Captain Leitnos growled from behind Gamelin, “you should leave off discussing the High King’s secrets in the mess!”

Vosper bowed slightly. “Captain, on me is the fault, not Lieutenant Gamelin.”

“You both should know better!” the captain growled, then stalked off on some unguessable errand.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, he was right. This isn’t something we should talk about here.”

Gamelin nodded sourly. Considering there had earlier been talk of killing Tanda Havra as a spy, he and Vosper should have been more discreet. From across the room Judybondi lifted her head and sought out his eyes. She smiled when she knew he was looking, before turning again to one of her friends.

Vosper clapped Gamelin on the shoulder. “Oh, Lieutenant! You have an admirer there!”

“It’s mutual,” Gamelin said, trying to calm his heart, which had started to race when she smiled.

“I would never have guessed,” the old sergeant said with a laugh.

III

Judy Bondi sighed as she sat down on a couch in Tuck’s large sitting room. Around her, the others sat down as well.

Tuck appeared, a wine glass in his hand.

Elspeth spoke first. “Tuck, all they had for us to drink with lunch and dinner was wine. Watered, they said.”

He nodded. “There’s no Coke, no Pepsi, here. No lemonade or orange juice. In season, apple juice, but it doesn’t last long unless it’s fermented. The only milk is goat’s milk and that’s an acquired taste. And if it’s not pasteurized, it’s dangerous. They don’t know about pasteurization, so it’s dangerous.”

Judy made a face; the milk was awful, actually. She doubted if she was going to be able to acquire a taste for it.

“Wine is safe to drink. The alcohol kills germs in the water. That’s not just a little important, considering the medical skills of the people here...it’s a matter of life and death. Keep to one or two glasses of watered wine with a meal and you’ll be fine. Don’t develop a taste for more, or for stronger stuff, particularly you, Elspeth.”

“It’s not going to mess up the baby?” she asked.

Tuck shook his head. “Everyone here grew up on the same diet, Elspeth. In low moderation you are safer with it than without it. I’ll see what I can do with Tanda Havra to make sure you have a balanced diet with enough vitamins.”

“Thanks, Tuck,” Elspeth said.

“And how did you three spend your day?” Tuck asked the three.

Elspeth looked around. “We got a tour, everything from the storerooms deep underground to the perch, high up over the town, where they keep watch.”

“They are really proud of their town,” Tuck told them. “I hope you flattered them.”

“Tuck,” Elspeth said, a little hesitant, “one of the guys who took us around in the afternoon was a Major Glaxos. A logistos, whatever that is.”

“A supply officer,” Tuck told her.

“He said there are currently nearly fifteen thousand people at Outpost. And every day they eat forty thousand pounds of food. Twenty tons!”

Tuck nodded.

“That’s thousands of tons in a year!” Elspeth went on.

“More than seven thousand tons, maybe eight thousand,” Tuck agreed.

“Where do they get it?” Becky asked. “That’s a lot of food!”

“It sounds like a lot, but you have to realize that even with minimal agriculture, you can get a ton of grain per acre, and usually several times that. They probably have ten or twelve thousand acres under cultivation. Which isn’t much by our standards, but huge here. From some of the comments I’ve heard, they also buy a lot of grain from villages like Mogdai.

“Villages that are gone now,” Tuck concluded.

“And what did you guys do?” Elspeth asked.

Judy flicked a glance at Tuck.

Tuck sighed. “We are guests, you understand?”

Elspeth nodded.

“That said, they like me and they like Judy. Actually, they like all of us. But Judy has made more of an impression than the rest of you. They asked us some questions yesterday and both of us knew the answers. Today we went and looked at something that is top secret. Tanda Havra snuck in to see what we were up to; she very nearly got shot.”

Judy nodded her head in agreement. If you think about protecting secrets in war, big secrets, you can understand doing what you have to do to protect them. But shooting two people she knew? People she knew personally? That had brought it home to her like nothing else, except Mrs. Flowers and her daughter’s departure.

“So, for right now, let’s just say that most of you could have given some of the right answers, too. Still, we will be good guests and not talk about things they don’t want us to talk about.”

“How much danger are we in?” Becky asked.

“At the moment, very little. Soon, though, the bad guys will be here. Then it goes from not very dangerous to extremely dangerous. On the other hand, the nearest safe place is a thousand miles east of here, and the trip isn’t safe, even if you can avoid any raiding parties that the bad guys will send out.”

The girls were silent for a few minutes, all lost in their own private thoughts. The question had been asked before: what’s going to happen to us? The answer then had been Tuck didn’t know. No one needed the question asked again, or even wanted it asked again. They all knew the answer hadn’t changed.

“Tuck,” Elspeth spoke up, breaking what was a growing depression among them.

He smiled at Elspeth.

“Major Glaxos and I talked for a while at the noon meal. Just about none of the adults here are literate, maybe a tenth of the older people, maybe half of those less than twenty-five. He asked me if I wanted to help out, keeping records. I told him I barely spoke his language, I don’t even know their alphabet.”

“So,” Tuck said, smiling slightly, “you told him what?”

“I’d like to help, but I’m not much more literate than a six-year-old. If that.”

“But you understand what’s involved. I never thought about their alphabet and writing. Find out how many letters they have in their alphabet and we can all practice. I bet you can read and write in no time!”

Judy noticed Lydia was crying, she reached out and put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. After a second, Lydia looked at Judy. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. When I was little, the first chords I learned on the guitar were the ones for the alphabet song. Then my grandfather taught me music notes. Notes were, he told me, the same thing as letters, and chords, he said, were like words.”

The tears streamed down her face, even if Lydia’s voice remained controlled. “Now he’s dead! Now they’re all dead!”

“Lydia, I can’t talk about tomorrow or next year. I can only talk about today. We’re alive today,” Tuck spoke gently, but firmly. “We are sheltered and safe, we’re warm and fed. We’ve found friends who are willing to go the extra mile, and then some, to keep us safe. On top of that, they like your guitar and love the way you sing. I have a song request.”

“A song request?” Lydia asked, uncertain. “I don’t feel much like playing.”

“Not this second, but when you feel like it. An alphabet song for their language. Elspeth, you get with this Major Glaxos. Judy, find a few minutes with Lieutenant Gamelin. Separately, write down the alphabet, and try to approximate the sounds. Don’t be surprised if you miss stuff. Has anybody besides Lydia heard the way they roll their r’s here?”

“What do you mean?” Judy asked.

“In Spanish in particular and German a little, there are two kinds of the letter R. One is the one we know. R. It just lies there, like a dead fish. In Spanish, some of the R’s, the tone goes up and down. Lydia, say ‘Moreno’”

“Moreno,” Lydia repeated.

“Can anyone hear the difference between the way she said it and the way I did?” Tuck asked.

Judy, Elspeth and Becky all shook their heads.

“It’s a little like a German person trying to speak a ‘W’ like we do...it sounds more like a ‘V.’ They don’t hear themselves mispronounce the letter, because to them, it’s right. I know the Zarthani roll their R’s, and some of their double s’s they almost spit, and other times it sounds like a regular s.”

“And all of this is for what?” Elspeth asked.

“So we can learn their alphabet. So we can learn to read their language, like we’re coming to speak it. Judy speaks it the best, Elspeth, you’re coming along well, too. The two of you need to help the others practice. You might as well get in the habit of speaking their language all the time. For one thing, speaking English in front of people, when they don’t understand, is liable to make them unhappy. We don’t want or need that.”

Later, in the middle of the night, Judy woke. She’d been dreaming about Tuck and Gamelin; she wasn’t sure which man had stirred her the most and that was troubling in itself. She tried to honestly compare how she felt when one or the other smiled at her, or told her she’d done well. Well, mainly the latter was Tuck and the former was Gamelin. There was no doubt in her mind that she felt differently about each of them. Tuck: that was respect. Pure and simple respect. Gamelin made her heart flutter and maybe other places felt twinges as well.

Judy rolled over and fluffed the pillow under her head. How cold did it get here in the winter? What should she do about how she felt about people? Tuck, Gamelin, Elspeth, even? Tomorrow was another day...


	14. Nighttime Activities

I

Tanda Havra stood in silence after she finished her report to Chief Hadron. The chief in turn regarded her without expression as she mulled Tanda’s words.

“Did you deliberately reveal your position to the Hostigi?” Manistewa asked after the silence had grown uncomfortable.

Tanda had left that part out of her report. She looked directly at the chief. “Tazi moved. They had just fired one of the mortars and she didn’t have a good spot to see what happened. So she stood up and moved to shade her eyes. She was outlined on the horizon and half a dozen people saw her move.”

“Is there anything else you left out?” Chief Hadron growled, obviously not happy.

“Yes. I’ve already reported that a number of times William Tucker has spoken to me in Hispano-Columbian English. When we were alone, he did it again. He said, ‘Hold your friends close and your enemies closer.’ He said that immediately after he told me about his feelings for me.”

“Why should he suspect you?” Manistewa seemed genuinely surprised.

Tanda looked at him and sniffed in derision. “You are a spy; they all know it, they have known it for a long time. I am your cousin; I do things that are odd. I’m not like you and I’m not like the villagers. Tuck knows the Paratime Secret; we know he does. A good cover for one kind of a spy is being another kind of spy.”

“And Calvin Morrison has never had anyone to talk over his experiences with. Any of these five people, if they talked about what happened to them could, together, quickly work through the whole thing,” Chief Hadron said. She rubbed her chin reflectively. “It would be stupid to think that Tuck and his charges haven’t done that very thing.

“Moreover, they must know that we and they look the same and that anyone could be a spy. A fool would trust anyone, even one with a history before they arrived; these people aren’t fools.

“The worst thing is contemplating what will happen if they and the High King compare notes. The High King is intelligent and capable, and I’m sure he suspects that we’re watching him. I consider it virtually certain that he has attempted to follow me or my husband several times.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

“If I could not bring myself to kill him for knowing the Paratime Secret, but doing what he could to protect it–I can’t very well kill five people for doing the same. They know they were kidnapped and taken elsewhere and elsewhen. Neither the High King nor Tuck is stupid. They can figure out that if they start talking about travelers and watchers they will be found dead sooner rather than later.

“They have arrived in an alien place and have reached an accommodation with it.”

“And you have violated your oath,” Tanda pointed out, “about revealing the Paratime Secret. If we were to simply tell them ‘Don’t talk about it, on pain of death,’ that would break our oaths.”

“It would,” the chief agreed.

“Now,” Hadron Dalla went on, “we come to this notion of attachés. Like Kalvan, Tuck is a very clever man.”

“It’s not a problem for us,” Manistewa told his boss. “It’s routine, in fact. We use a lot of locals in various positions to keep suspicions down to a minimum.”

Dalla nodded. “And you, Tanda? How do you feel about such an assignment?”

Tanda shrugged. “As you said, he is clever. We get to spy on the Hostigi with their blessing. He keeps me close. He says he has romantic intentions towards me. He doesn’t seem like the sort of person who would normally come out and say something like that until he thought those intentions might be mutual.”

“Are they?” the chief asked, probing.

Tanda shrugged. Such things were virtually never permitted. “He’s not as ugly as Manistewa,” Tanda said, trying to keep her tone light.

“The Paracops are famous for putting the mission ahead of personal considerations,” Dalla told her. “Right up to sleeping with someone. It is always left to the individual. You may, Tanda, do as you wish.”

“If there is any romance,” she told him forthrightly, “it will be real and not feigned.”

“Once upon a time, I considered trying out some theories of reincarnation. Real, not feigned,” Dalla said.

Tanda blinked. In order to do that you’d have to die.

The chief grinned at her expression. “Yes, there’s that downside. Instead, we tried it out on some other folks. My husband never wanted to know the results. I smiled like a Cheshire cat for weeks and weeks and gave a long paper at a meeting of people who investigate such things.”

Tanda shivered. That was carrying devotion to duty to another level.

“So, now what?” Manistewa asked.

“I’m supposed to report to Count Errock in the morning if you agree.”

“Oh, I agree,” Manistewa said, then looked at Chief Hadron. “We are agreed, aren’t we?”

“We are,” the chief told him. “And I’m about to head east. I need to spend some time at Headquarters, and then Verkan and I need to be close to Kalvan when word of the invasion reaches him. We have an eye on the courier headed towards Xiphlon from the frontier, where the Mexicotál are coming north in very large numbers. Certainly more than a million men.”

“And will the High King be able to defeat them?” Manistewa asked soberly.

The Chief of the Paratime Police stood up. “You have no need to know, but I’ll tell you anyway. Tube mortars are the very least of the surprises the High King has in store for the Mexicotál. The Zarthani will take a little longer, as the distance is great.

“You have, no doubt, heard about the High King’s road building projects?”

Manistewa nodded; Tanda shrugged.

“Well, small details of construction are hardly worth comment. The roads are gravel, on graded beds. There are trestle bridges over all the streams and rivers. Two things are worthy of note. One is that there are no unbridged crossings between Harphax City and Xiphlon. The second is that many people think the High King is daft. He put solid iron rails down the road, dividing the road into two lanes–one for each direction. He’s told people the rails are to keep drivers from falling asleep and swerving into the oncoming traffic.”

“Pardon?” Manistewa said, uncertain. “That doesn’t make much sense. A simple wooden barrier would suffice and would be much cheaper.”

“You’d think so. But as strange as that is, the High King’s inspectors make sure those rails stay the same distance apart. About four feet...about the width of a rail car.”

“He’s built a railroad? In secret?” Manistewa’s eyes goggled in surprise. “That’s incredible! Does he have enough rolling stock to be effective?”

“Two moon quarters after the dispatch reaches Xiphlon, fifty thousand of Hestophes’ First Mounted Rifles will be in Xiphlon stepping off the trains, mounting their horses and heading southwest. Every two moon quarters after that, another fifty thousand men. The plan is to send Hestophes, then two more loads, the High King with the second. With a hundred thousand men of his own, the High King will take the field. Hestophes is supposed to skirmish against the Mexicotál vanguard, to slow them down until the High King arrives. It will be two moons, more or less, before Hestophes fights his first Mexicotál. Another moon and the High King will be on the battlefield with two hundred thousand of his finest soldiers.

“The High King will call out all of the levies. He will feed a hundred thousand fresh soldiers into the battle every moon. And a good many of those levies will be busy extending track towards the southwest. Before the first snowfall in Hostigos, the High King is going to have his entire army facing the Mexicotál. Next spring, he’ll be taking it to the Zarthani, here.”

There was silence in the room. Chief Hadron waved something that might have been a salute and was gone.

“We are in the midst of a war commanded by a very clever man,” Manistewa said, his voice a little bitter. “Facing men of unsurpassed evil and cruelty. We all need to be careful, Tanda.”

“Are you going to stay in Outpost?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’ll be sending most of the families away. The few that will remain will be Paracops. If worst comes to worst, we’ll take a conveyor and burn the base.”

Tanda looked at him for a long moment. “And the attaché?”

“Will have to take the same chances as the rest of his people.”

“You understand, don’t you, Mannie, that I won’t be there for the evacuation?”

He grimaced. “I could try to make you, but that wouldn’t work. Tanda, it’s easy to feel sympathy towards outtimers. They are, after all, human, just like we are. But they are still outtimers.”

“Mannie, one day First Level will reap what it has sown. The Paratime Secret is like any secret: no matter how hard you try to protect it, at some point it will get out. And I don’t think the outtimers are going to think very kindly of us. At best, we study them like ants under a microscope. At worst, we enslave them; we steal their art, their finished goods and their resources. We kill them like vermin if it suits our needs.”

“You should get some sleep, Tanda,” he said, ignoring her comment. “And stop talking about ‘us’ when you quite clearly mean ‘you guys.’”

II

Judy Bondi was roused early when one of the servants shook her awake. “My lady,” the girl, a little younger than Judy, bowed slightly. “They said to wake you, a palm width before Cock’s Crow.”

“Thank you,” Judy managed.

“In the Council Chamber, my lady, as soon as you are ready.”

Judy went and splashed water on her face, spent a few minutes brushing the worst of the tangles out of her hair. Was this part of the “make-Judy-wish-she-should-reconsider” effort that she was sure was going to come?

She remembered something her brother had said. “I thought it was BS when they’d wake us at three in the morning in Basic. Then, when I got to Nam, that’s when you get up so you’re set at dawn; that’s the time Charley prefers to attack, right out of the rising sun.”

So, maybe not.

She donned a fresh pair of underwear, jeans and a blouse. The women here didn’t wear bras; they wore strips of material they wrapped around their chests that were supposed to serve the same purpose. Some wore the strips, some didn’t; it was a matter of personal choice. Judy didn’t bother.

She walked down dimly lit corridors until she came to the Council Chamber. Tuck was there, but obviously he’d just arrived. The count was there; he looked like he’d never left. A few minutes after Judy entered, so did Gamelin and Vosper, then two more officers. Tanda Havra came last, with her friend Tazi once more in tow.

Count Errock stood, walked a few feet and unrolled a map of the area. It took Judy a few seconds to orient herself. The familiar boundaries of Arizona, California, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Nevada were gone. All that was on the maps were squiggles for rivers and mountains.

“I have formulated my own plan for how to defend Outpost,” Count Errock announced. “Tuck, before I speak my plan, I would like to hear yours.”

It was, Judy thought, a setup, because Tuck had written notes in front of him.

“My Lord Count...” Tuck started.

Count Errock raised his hand and Tuck stopped talking. “We meet here in War Council. I command. I have officers who command others. We will be polite, but not formal. Use ‘sir’ when referring to a senior, ‘Count Errock’ referring to me, and names referring to equals and juniors.”

“Count Errock,” Tuck continued, “in my service with my king, the one thing we counted as the most important was knowledge of our enemy. Any knowledge, all knowledge. No detail was unimportant. Location of enemy bases and supply lines. Company names, locations and strengths. Who commands a unit and what is that man’s personal history? The history of the unit? Who are the officers and what is their experience? How are companies equipped; how much does the average soldier carry in his pack? How much fireseed, how many bullets, what tools, how much food? No detail was too small.

“The information must be timely. It does little good to know that last year a company was in one spot and it’s not known where it is today.

“So, the first order of business must be finding out where and how many your enemy numbers. The supply route must be located and thoroughly scouted. You need to know how many wagons are traveling on it at any time, where they are located, what they are loaded with, where are they bound and for what purpose.

“Obviously, no army can learn all these things about an enemy. Details have to be checked; your enemy has no obligation to tell you the truth.”

“And why would they tell us anything at all?” Captain Leitnos growled.

“Because men taken prisoner, if treated well, will sometimes volunteer the most extraordinary things,” Tuck went on. “Beat them and of course they will close their mouths, or worse, lie. To many soldiers, what they are about is simple and unimportant. Their officers are feckless tyrants who don’t understand them. These attitudes can be used to your advantage.”

“You advocate then,” Count Errock said politely, “that our scout patrols attempt to take prisoners?”

“Yes, sir. Obviously, a prisoner is a great risk to a patrol. A hostile presence, who, at the wrong time, can give the patrol away. Obviously, it is a judgment call about whether or when to let a possible prisoner go, but sometimes the knowledge that you treat prisoners well can bring great rewards; rewards worth the risks.”

“It is Galzar’s Way,” Gamelin said simply. Judy looked at him, aware that everyone else in the chamber was looking at Gamelin.

Gamelin simply sat quietly, saying nothing further.

“It is indeed Galzar’s Way,” Count Errock added. “And what do we do to their prisoners, Tuck, when they kill ours out of hand? Or take them south to be sacrificed to the Mexicotál God-King?”

“Send a few back with a message: treat your prisoners well, or theirs will also be killed out of hand. Perhaps they are fanatics and don’t mind dying uselessly. Mostly, even fanatics, given a choice, choose differently. Tell them we’ll exchange prisoners, if nothing else. Capture officers, capture their priests. Take hostages.”

Count Errock nodded. “But, first and foremost, scout the enemy?”

“That has to be the first thing, Count Errock,” Tuck replied. “If you know what they are going to do next, you have a chance to catch them unawares; do to them before they do to you. Count, if they are reacting to your attacks, they are on the defensive. No one on the defensive has ever won a war.”

“That is the truth,” Count Errock agreed. “And if we know where they are and how strong they are, we can field a stronger force and catch them by surprise. That is good.”

“Ambushes, Count,” Tuck went on. “They will have patrols out. If you can see them before they see you, you can ambush them. If they are ambushed often, it will affect their thinking. They will put more men with their patrols.”

“And what good is that?” asked the officer that had come with Captain Leitnos.

“If you use two men to do one man’s work,” Tuck told him, “the extra effort is wasted. You get half the work.”

“If,” Count Errock spoke up, “their patrols have to be two or three times the size they have to be, it means they can run only half or a third as many patrols. Consider that, Captain Furia.”

The captain bobbed his head in understanding.

“So first, we will scout their advance,” Count Errock said. “And obviously, as you have said, it is our intention to strike them at their weak spots.”

“Count Errock, I tell you true. Those attacks have to be very carefully thought out. The first time you strike will have ten thousand times the surprise and impact of the tenth attack. If possible, use the mortars against the biggest, fattest target out there.”

Count Errock walked to the map and touched a spot with his finger. “They are building a camp, here, to base their advance against Outpost.”

“Are they continuing to advance or has their vanguard stopped there?” Tuck asked.

“They patrol, but the bulk of their forces are around this camp. There are horse caravans arriving, I’m told, but no wagons.”

Tuck nodded in understanding. “They have outrun their supplies, even now.”

Count Errock nodded in agreement.

“That has to show how dangerous their position is,” Tuck continued. He got up and walked up to the map, and put his finger down on the same spot the count had touched. “The first attack should be here.”

“That’s insane!” Captain Leitnos spat with anger. “Attack their main force? We’d be destroyed!”

“How many mortars do you have, Count Errock?” Tuck asked. The two men’s eyes met.

“Four dozen, about a thousand rounds for each. The High King’s message told me that such weapons eat ammunition at an astonishing rate.”

“Six mortars, then,” Tuck suggested. “Eighteen rounds for each. A dozen rounds from each to be used in the initial attack, four more to use against the initial pursuit, two as a reserve.”

Captain Leitnos’ jaw dropped. “Not even twenty rounds? They will simply ride you over in a finger width! That’s if you survive to fire a single round, as they see you setting up!”

Tuck grinned. “Captain, it will be in the middle of the night. They will see nothing.” Tuck turned to Judy. “Do you have a hairbrush?”

Judy pulled it from her purse, and tossed it underhand to Tuck. He fielded it, turned and moved behind the stand with the map on it. “Yesterday you saw mortars used as conventional artillery,” Tuck said, now unseen. “However, mortars aren’t conventional artillery. They fire with a high angle, the opposite of regular artillery. Regular artillery fires from level to halfway straight up.”

Judy’s hairbrush sailed over the stand, off to one side. It nearly hit Gamelin, who caught it at the last moment.

“Further,” Tuck said, coming out from behind the map, “the sound a mortar makes isn’t the sharp bang a cannon makes. It’s softer and more diffuse. With echoes, it’s almost impossible to locate. Firing from behind a hill, with no flash visible to your enemies, they won’t know where the fire is coming from. And since they have no experience with explosive shells, they won’t know what’s happening. The logical thing to think would be a ground assault. What do you do to defeat a ground assault? Why, every man hunkers down and starts shooting. Imagine, Count Errock, the effect that would have on a camp crowded with Zarthani and Mexicotál, shooting wildly at an unseen enemy.”

Judy considered that and saw that several of the people present were nodding.

The person who spoke next was a surprise. Tazi lifted her chin. “Mexicotál shooting each other! I would give my life to see that!”

Tanda bowed slightly to Count Errock. “Lord Count, I apologize for my friend’s ill-considered words...”

“I said how we would address each other, did I not, Lady Tanda?”

“I am not a lady, sir. I am a village medicine woman. The only respect I commanded in my village was because I could fill empty bellies and make my sisters medicine.”

“Speak freely, Tanda,” the count told her. “You don’t have to apologize for your friend, though. There is not a person in this room who disagrees with her.”

“Beside me is Tazi Mogdai. As you have aides, so do I. Your aides polish your armor, mine carries the thrush willow I harvest.”

“Welcome to my council, Tazi Mogdai,” the count said, speaking to Tazi. “And you are quite right. It would be very pleasant to see Mexicotál shooting each other. Even more pleasant would be seeing Mexicotál shooting Zarthani and the reverse. They are allies only because they hate us more than they hate each other. They are not the best of allies.”

“That is so, Count Errock,” Tuck said. “An attack on the place they feel they are their strongest, particularly an attack where they couldn’t see their attackers, and find only tracks later...that will be more than a small victory. That is a thrust at the core of their army.”

“Dangerous, though,” Count Errock told Tuck.

“Yes. However, worth the risk. Even if you lose everyone in the attack, it would be worth the risk. Four men on a mortar team, a few more guards. Perhaps thirty men, all told.”

“And it all hinges on knowing where our enemy is and what they are doing,” Count Errock mused.

“Sir, those things, yes. It also hinges on how well trained and motivated the attackers are. If the soldiers can’t land the rounds inside the enemy camp, your enemies will be startled, but later, unafraid. Even contemptuous.”

Count Errock nodded solemnly. “And how shall I employ you in this enterprise, Tuck?”

Tuck sighed. “You should appoint a trusted officer to command. Another trusted officer to command the mortars. I should advise whoever commands the mortars.”

Count Errock steepled his fingers, looking at them for a moment. Then he looked up at Tuck. “Tell me, Tuck, what have you heard of the High King? Of a place called Tarr-Dombra?”

“I have heard that your king came among you as a stranger. He taught you many things, including the fireseed secret. He led the forces of Hostigos and defeated their enemies. One of the battles he fought was at Tarr-Dombra. Gamelin told me that the word Tarr means a stone fortress.”

“Tarr-Dombra had never fallen to an attack, until Gormoth of Nostor’s father bought it. The High King looked at it, and then took it by storm in little more than a moon of planning and rehearsals. There were fewer than a hundred Hostigi casualties.”

The count paused and Judy watched him carefully. “And do you know the High King’s role in that attack?”

Tuck shook his head.

“He accompanied a company of Hostigi infantry. He had no authority.”

“I understand, sir,” Tuck replied, bowing his head.

“Tuck,” the count spoke the single word, and Tuck looked up. “At the end of the day there was not one of the men who attacked Tarr-Dombra, as stark a fortress as exists, who wouldn’t have followed the High King anywhere at all. Even into the Seven Hells of Regwarn.”

“I try to avoid places like that,” Tuck said dryly. Everyone in the room laughed, except Tuck and Judy.

“Captain Leitnos, you will take command of the mortars. You will start training your company in their employ. Captain Furia, you will see me after this meeting. We will plan a scouting campaign.”

The count turned to Tuck. “You are now Captain Tuck of Hostigos, an officer of the High King. Later, I will accept your oath. Right now, you will get with your aide,” he motioned to Judy, “and come up with recommendations for an attack.”

Tuck bowed slightly and Judy bowed more.

There was a moment of silence, and then Tanda Havra spoke. “My aide and I, Count, would like to be attached to the mortar company.”

“As you wish,” the count told her. Then the count turned his gaze on Gamelin.

“Lieutenant, usually after a junior lieutenant’s first patrol I offer him a choice of cavalry or mounted infantry duty. There are times when need requires I make the choice myself. I will listen, Lieutenant, to your application.”

Judy saw Vosper whisper into Gamelin’s ear. Gamelin’s ears turned red and she saw Gamelin’s eyes fix on the count. “Count Errock, I am an officer of the High King. Tell me where I would be most useful.”

“Well said, Lieutenant! For the time being, make yourself useful to Captain Tuck. Your patrol, all of them, will also find themselves useful to Captain Tuck.”

“Yes, sir,” Gamelin said, bowing his head.

“Count Errock,” Tuck said, a little diffidently.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I have a suggestion. The young women in my charge, the others except Judy Bondi, are all literate. It is true that they don’t speak your language well yet, but they can all read and write our language. It is my thought that, with a minimum of training, they can learn to read and write Zarthani. Understanding of what they read and write might take a little longer, but will follow as surely as night does day.”

“And your suggestion?”

“There are officers of yours who need capable assistants, assistants who can read and write. Some of those officers already have such assistants; others do not. Perhaps a few more junior officers can find better employ, while my charges can do something useful to earn their keep.”

“Since the advent of the High King, Captain Tuck,” Count Errock spoke frankly to Tuck. “No one counts the cost of hospitality to strangers. The High King taught us all the rewards of hospitality to strangers can be immeasurable.”

Everyone nodded somberly.

“We all have things to do. Go do them!” Count Errock commanded.

III

Gamelin had no idea what Tuck was going to do, and was promptly shown that he had no idea what Tuck would do. Not a skinny finger’s width after they had left the Council Chamber Tuck had met with Captain Leitnos and they’d agreed to start at once.

Captain Leitnos had then turned to Gamelin. “You will assemble your men for Captain Tuck’s inspection. Tell them to prepare for two days in the field.”

Tuck in turn motioned to Judybondi. “Go to my room. On top of my pack is my shovel. Fetch it.”

Judy nodded and bounded away.

Tuck turned to Captain Leitnos. “I need some things made. Who does that? Who commands such things?”

Captain Leitnos shrugged. “There are woodworkers and smiths. Sometimes they fight over whose territory a new task is.”

“What I want is part wood, part metal. A screw and threads, a blade, and a handle.”

“Better, then, the smiths,” Captain Leitnos told Tuck.

“Tell Judybondi who to see. I want enough of these for every man on the raid.”

Gamelin had seen the little shovel; he’d thought it clever, but hadn’t thought much beyond that.

“Captain,” Gamelin said. He was surprised at how easy it was to say.

Tuck turned to Gamelin.

“Captain Tuck, I saw your little shovel. Sir, why should everyone have a shovel? We carry a few regular shovels with each patrol.”

Tuck grinned. “Lieutenant, that’s because when you’re about to get shot at, a hole in the ground is your best friend! When artillery is shooting at you, a hole in the ground is your only friend.”

It was clear about the emphasis in the two sentences.

“Captain,” Captain Leitnos spoke, “soldiers aren’t fond of digging with shovels. Or any form of construction.”

Tuck laughed. “And they like getting shot or blown up better? No, we will explain what it is they will be doing. They will see the reason for it.”

Gamelin glanced at Vosper. Vosper laughed in turn. “Lieutenant, no one likes to dig. But a shelter of your own when the bullets fly? We will have a lot of holes!”

Judy was gone for the rest of the morning. A palm width after the meeting they were on the raft again, heading for the edge of the lake.

Ashore, Tuck conferred with Captain Leitnos.

And once again, Gamelin found out the disadvantages of being a junior officer when Captain Leitnos called on him. “Lieutenant, return to Outpost. Speak to the logistos. I want enough rations for the men here for a moon quarter in the field. I want horse rations for the same. We need another half dozen mortars and another hundred rounds.”

“For each weapon, sir?” Gamelin asked.

The captain grinned. “Good question, Lieutenant! No, just a hundred rounds. Be quick!”

By late afternoon, Gamelin and his men, with a sprinkling of Captain Leitnos’ company, were riding across the hills, accompanied by Judy, Tuck, Tanda and Tazi.

Gamelin glanced at Tanda Havra, riding next to Tuck and Captain Leitnos. He’d heard everything; he’d been there for every word. It still didn’t make much sense to him. She was a spy. There wasn’t any other word for it...she was a spy. Yet, not only did Count Errock not mind, he didn’t seem to care!

Several times since Gamelin had met Tuck he wished he had time to sit down and talk to his father about what was going on around him. His father was a wise man, a capable leader. He would, Gamelin was sure, understand what was going on.

But Vosper also knew a few things, so Gamelin turned to him. “Sergeant, I don’t understand about Tanda Havra.”

Vosper looked forward along the column and grinned. “Tuck fancies her.”

“Okay,” Gamelin said, trying not to be sarcastic. “Tuck fancies her. What about Count Errock? How could he agree to allow a spy in our midst?”

“They are our allies, sir. A reasonable course for Count Errock, one he was considering, was gathering everyone and everything up and heading northeast. Tell me, sir, what would have happened to Manistewa and his people in that case?”

“They could have come along.”

“This is their home, sir. Many would have stayed, even if it wasn’t safe. Tell me, sir, how would you feel if you were told the High King couldn’t defend your home and was riding away?”

“I’d do what I could, then I too would ride away.”

The sergeant laughed. “The best thing would be to coordinate the attacks. So that you would not die without reason, without hope. Lieutenant, Manistewa and his people are valued allies. They deserve more than to see our backsides vanishing in the distance.”

“We’re not leaving,” Gamelin riposted.

Vosper laughed again. “Because one man, Count Errock, said we would stay. He could have said otherwise. Do you think our allies don’t deserve to know the truth?”

“Count Errock would have told them.”

“You trust the count; I trust the count. I suspect Manistewa trusts the count. But there are some things, Lieutenant, where trust isn’t enough. When you have to be sure!”

Gamelin nodded in agreement.

“So, they have someone who will watch us, in case Manistewa was wrong to trust us.”

A thousand thoughts rushed through Gamelin’s head. In the Trygath intrigue and betrayal were a staple of the realm. Attachés were, he thought, a little like exchanging hostages.

About a palm width before the sun went below the horizon Captain Leitnos called the column to a halt and immediately called for Gamelin.

Gamelin and Vosper went forward. “Take a half dozen men, Lieutenant,” Tuck told him, and then pointing forward, as he went on. “Captain Leitnos says there is a ravine just behind the hill.”

“Yes, sir,” Gamelin replied, not at all sure what he was supposed to do.

“You will prepare fires, but not light them, just this side of each hill. You will in fact, cold camp,” Tuck went on. “None of your men is to make the smallest amount of light.”

Again Gamelin nodded.

“No smoking,” Tuck added.

Gamelin grimaced. That was like asking for the sun not to come up. “Tell them,” Tuck added, “that I will be shooting at any light.”

“The fires, Captain Tuck?” Gamelin asked.

“At least two hundred paces apart. You will prepare them, then leave one man at each to start them. Captain Leitnos will signal with a single pistol shot, a palm width after darkness falls. Tell those men, they have a hundred count to get away and under cover. Come in after first light.”

“Captain?” Gamelin asked, still unsure.

“The mortars will be shooting at the fires. The best spot is behind the hill, in the ravine. If your men hurry, they should be in cover in plenty of time. Stay under cover until first light.”

Gamelin nodded.

He led his men forward, and, to his surprise, they went quietly about getting the fires laid. When the fires were ready, they went and took cover as bid. Gamelin and Vosper stayed at the fire sites.

“When we leave, I’m going over there,” Gamelin pointed to a small eminence a few hundred yards from the fire, in the opposite direction from where he was supposed to go.

Vosper reached up and gripped Gamelin's tunic. “Lieutenant, they are going to be throwing artillery rounds this way. They’ve said they are going to be shooting at the fires. They’ve said they won’t shoot at the ravine. They said nothing about anywhere else. No, sir. You will not.”

“I want to watch!”

“Watch from where you were told!” the sergeant demanded.

Night fell and the two men separated. It wasn’t lost on Gamelin that Vosper had taken the fire nearest the hill he’d wanted to sit on to watch what Tuck was going to do.

Time passed. There was nothing, no sign of anything. Gamelin started to drowse.

The pistol shot sufficed to wake him. He hastily lit the fire, then sprinted in the direction he was supposed to go. He finished a few steps ahead of Vosper, which was embarrassing as the older man had further to run. Still, both of them peeked from around the hill at the fires.

In the distance, Gamelin saw a flash and a few heartbeats later heard the dull thump of the mortar firing. The shell landed well over one of the fires and both he and Vosper ducked. He missed the next flash, but heard the thump and had his head back up almost at once.

The shell landed long again, but much closer, and this time in line with the fire burning in the desert night. Another flash, and this time the fire could be seen to blaze up, a near miss. Another shot, and the fire guttered for a instant, shattered by the explosion, before it sank into blackness. Only a single bush remaining, burning in the night.

There was another thump, and Gamelin didn’t see the flash. “I didn’t see where that came from,” Gamelin told Vosper.

“I didn’t either.”

The round landed long, but in line with the second fire. The next shot was short, but also in line. Gamelin still hadn’t seen the muzzle flare. The third shot again hit the fire, scattering it.

“Three shots per target,” Vosper murmured. “Galzar Wolf’s Head! They are a mile away and with the third shot, they can hit a fire!”

“And I couldn’t see the muzzle flare the second time!” Gamelin reminded Vosper.

In the distance, there was another dull thump of a mortar round.

“What are they shooting at now?” Gamelin asked.

There was a sudden light, hanging over the small hill Gamelin had earlier talked about hiding on. The light descended slowly,

There were three thumps and almost at once, Gamelin could see two explosions in front of the hill, and one behind it. More thumps and the next six shots all struck on or near the hilltop.

Gamelin swallowed hard. Next to him, Vosper laughed low.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Gamelin told him.

Vosper ignored him. “Can you imagine the advantage of lying in wait at night and all of a sudden the enemy is standing out there in plain sight, without cover? When you can see them, and when they look out into the dark they can see nothing? Nothing at all?”


	15. The Raid -- Planning

I

Judy Bondi stood with Tanda Havra and Tazi, unsure if she’d been relegated to the rear because she was a girl or because it was dangerous. Tanda seemed to understand her thoughts.

“My uncle says cannon are dangerous to those who shoot them, if they are not careful. Too much fireseed, too heavy a shot, and they can burst and kill everyone around. New guns are the most dangerous of all. A single gun bursting, in a row of guns, can make the others burst. And the sound hurts the ears.”

Judy watched them zero in on the first fire, hitting it relatively quickly. Then Tuck moved on horseback, to another gun position, well away, perhaps five hundred yards. Judy had heard them talking about it earlier, the mortar was in a shallow ravine, about twenty feet below the level of the plateau.

She had seen faint flashes with the first mortar, light reflected off the rocks. Once she knew where to look, the flash was visible after each shot. Not so with the second mortar. She could only hear a vague sound in the distance; there was no muzzle flash.

After the third shot hit the fire, that mortar fell silent as well. Judy knew there was something else, but she didn’t know what.

She saw the faint flash of a third mortar, heard the sound and looked forward, over the stunted scrub trees that dominated hereabouts.

There was no sound, but suddenly there was a harsh, actinic light hanging over a small hill. More shells rained down on the hill, smothering it, Judy thought. All three mortars had been shooting at it.

A while later Captain Leitnos and Tuck arrived, leading men carrying a mortar tube in a shelter half. Captain Leitnos was nursing a sore hand. “When I told him that mortar tubes were hot,” Tuck told Judy, “Captain Leitnos decided to touch one to see how hot it was. The answer is that you never want to find out.”

Even as he spoke, the mortar tube clanged on the ground, having burned through the canvas of the shelter half. “This is as good a spot as any,” Tuck told those around him. “We’ll spend the night here.”

One of the privates nodded and relayed the command. Judy remembered the young man as the one who’d gone with Tuck, after Mrs. Flowers. “Pickets,” Tuck told the private, and the other nodded.

It was impossible to miss the fact that when Judy went to sleep, she was next to Tanda and Tazi, and the three of them were ringed by Hostigi soldiers. It was, Judy thought, not worth making an issue about, because she was sure she’d be ignored.

Judy was very nearly asleep when Tuck came by. He had stopped to talk to Tanda though, not Judy. “You have a penchant for wandering around the camp, in and out. I’m training these people, Tanda. They have orders to shoot anyone who doesn’t answer a challenge. They are going to be a lot better as guards than they ever were. Don’t wander.”

“I never would,” Tanda said, sounding aggrieved.

“I understand, I was afraid of the impetuousness of youth. Just a word to the wise, you understand?”

“Yes, now let us sleep,” Tanda replied.

Judy realized she was feeling better than she’d felt since she’d come here. The aches were fading; the food no longer seemed as terrible. She looked up at the stars, far clearer than they’d ever been at home. She smiled and closed her eyes. Sleep came quickly.

Judy was toed awake later, sometime in the middle of the night. She could sense movement, but the moon had set and there was only starlight to see by and that wasn’t enough.

Tuck spoke from the darkness. “I have here our Mogdai attaché. Currently, she’s tied up. Untie her, Judy, only after first light.”

There was a muffled sound, frustrated anger, Judy thought.

“Oh, and she’s gagged. I’d leave her that way if I were you, because if you start feeling sorry for her and untie her before first light, I’m going to think you can’t be trusted with the simplest task. And henceforth, you will stay back in town.”

There was the faintest of sounds, then nothing.

Then another faint rustle and Judy heard Tazi whisper, “Sister, should I untie you?”

“Tazi,” Judy said into the darkness, “if you want to help your friend and sister, then do nothing until first light. How else do you teach a proud person a lesson?”

Tazi sighed. “Elder Sister, Lady Judy is right, so was Lord Tuck. It was foolish to go out, just to show you could do it. What good are you to Mogdai, sister, if a guard shoots you by mistake?”

Judy was tolerably sure the sound she heard then was a fart; whatever it was, Tazi laughed. “You sleep, sister! It won’t be long, then!”

The camp lapsed back into silence. Judy could hear Tanda squirming around, no doubt, trying to untie herself. It was, Judy thought, a battle of wills. Tuck versus Tanda. And Tuck liked Tanda? Judy wasn’t entirely sure she understood that, nor why Tuck had done what he’d done. Then she remembered Tazi’s words about being shot by mistake. Was that why Tuck had done it? Because he really did like Tanda, and he really intended to teach the guards how to do their jobs better?

It was surely something to think about.

There was just enough light to see when Tanda turned her back on Judy, holding up the knot to be undone. It took a bit; Judy had to use her knifepoint to tease the rope loops out of the knots. Finally Tanda was rubbing her wrists, then her ankles.

After a minute she got up and stretched, then went and kicked Tuck rather hard. “May I go scout now?”

Tuck had been sleeping on top of his sleeping bag, his Stetson pulled over his eyes. “Sure, take trooper Hestius with you.”

“I’ll take Tazi,” Tanda told him.

“That’s up to you, but you will also take my trooper.”

“He will slow us down.”

“Tanda, it’s very simple. If you want to be out here with us, I have to be able to trust you. The Hostigi commander has to be able to trust you. You know, trust you to do what you’re told and not to do as you please. If you don’t take a trooper with you and if you don’t come back with a trooper that’s been with you the entire time, don’t bother to come back. Go back to Outpost, tell your uncle to appoint someone else as attaché.”

Tanda held her little finger up. “That long and we go, whether your trooper is ready of not.”

Tuck pointed to the young man that had been with Tuck on the march to Outpost. The young man glanced at Tazi and then his eyes gleamed in unfeigned pleasure.

A few minutes later the three loped out of camp, heading towards a rise a mile or so to the south. One that had a good view out over the basins, beyond the Mogollon Rim. The Barrier, Judy reminded herself. That’s what they called it here. And it probably was, if you were limited to horses and wagons. The road they’d ascended the cliff on was wide enough for a horse, but not for a wagon. There was probably a way up for wagons, but they hadn’t seen it.

Gamelin and his men came back in. Tuck gestured to Judy and she joined Tuck, Gamelin, Vosper and Captain Leitnos for a meeting.

“Yesterday the men learned that they can shift where the bombs land and hit their target. If they can see their target.” Tuck told them. “Today, we’ll practice aiming at targets the mortar gunners can’t see.”

A few minutes later the men were eating, then afterwards they policed the camp before riding another mile further north. When they stopped Judy decided she wanted to listen to what Tuck was saying, so she stayed close to his elbow.

“For now,” Tuck told the assembled troops, “we’ll keep it simple.” He held up two wooden sticks, one with a white piece of cloth, the other with a red piece attached to the stick. Each stick was about two feet long and the cloth about a foot square.

“The white flag is which way to move the tube, left or right. Held in the left hand it means left, in the right hand, move the tube to the right. If it’s held low,” he demonstrated, holding the stick point towards the ground, “that means one degree right or left. Held level, that’s three degrees, held up, five degrees in whichever direction. If you want to shift the fire two degrees right, you do this.” He pulled the flag back to his face, then moved it back where it had been. “You can sign quickly, once you’ve practiced, just about any shift in any direction.

“The red flag is up and down. Up,” he raised the flag over his head, “and down.” He moved it down. “Then you touch your nose for five degrees, your stomach for three degrees, and your knee for one degree. Repeat for the right angle.”

“That sounds complicated,” Captain Leitnos said, sounding a little sour.

Judy looked at the man in surprise. It was very simple!

“We will practice. We have a half dozen sets of flags. We’ll pair up and give everyone a chance to wave flags and the other to interpret them. Then we’ll trade off and do it again.”

At the end of two palm widths, everyone was reasonably proficient. Judy stayed close to Tuck the whole time, and for the first few minutes, he’d closely watched the sergeants who were directing the men, with Vosper and Gamelin watching the sergeants.

Tuck walked a ways off with Captain Leitnos. “We need a better way to carry hot mortar tubes,” Tuck told him.

“Just dump water on them,” the captain told him.

Tuck smiled. “Which will give off a plume of white steam. I don’t think that’s a good idea on a battlefield. Plus, the men have enough to carry as it is.”

The captain nodded. “We can make some heavy leather straps,” Captain Leitnos said after some thought. “They will wear out, but they will be small and light, compared to everything else about these mortars. We can carry spares.”

Tuck nodded.

A while later they set up a mortar tube and Tuck handed Gamelin an old tunic top from his pack. “Go up to that hill, find a pole and hang the shirt from it. Stuff it with grass, and then come back.”

Gamelin and Vosper swung onto their horses and galloped off. As they did, Tanda, Tazi and Hestius returned.

“Well, anything to report?” Tuck asked Tanda.

“Nothing, not even dust,” Tanda told him. “We went all the way to the edge of the Barrier and looked out. We could see nothing. Your trooper knows how to run!”

Tuck nodded, before returning his attention back to the exercise.

For the rest of the morning and afternoon each team would fire a single shot from their mortar and the men would decide what the signals should be. Moreover, Tuck made it a contest, with the team who did best getting a wineskin instead of beer with dinner.

There was laughter, good-natured kidding and everyone was eager to do their best. Judy watched carefully, curious about everything. Finally they poured a little water on the mortar tube they’d been using and it did indeed send up billows of steam. The plumes towered twenty or thirty feet into the air.

That had been, Judy thought, deliberate on Tuck’s part. He’d remembered what Captain Leitnos had said earlier. None of the men had heard the captain’s suggestion, but more than one had looked nervously at the clouds of white vapor drifting away on the late afternoon breeze.

Then they returned to the eastern shore of the lake. In the time they’d been gone, a small tent city had been constructed, about thirty tents. Soldiers walked the perimeter, all armed and grim.

There was something like a rowboat moored at the small pier, and Tuck, Captain Leitnos, Tanda, Tazi and Judy climbed in, for a quick row out to the city.

Tuck turned to Tanda. “We have been summoned for a meeting concerning the first scout reports. There would be time to see your uncle first.”

II

“First Count Errock, then my uncle,” Tanda told Tuck when he made his suggestion.

The whole thing with the night before was simply her own fault, Tanda thought. She should have known, had indeed assumed, that Tuck would try to stop her from leaving the camp.

She woke after midnight and had moved silently to the latrine area. There had been no sound, no sign of the inner camp guards. She slipped through the outer guards, headed downhill and turned away from the camp.

She’d been alert, sure that Tuck would be following her. But she’d heard nothing and finally, confident, she’d given into her impulse. She had taken perhaps a half dozen running steps when she saw the rope flick past her eyes. It moved far faster than she could react, and at once her arms were pinned to her sides.

She’d tried to escape the rope, but Tuck was quick, as she’d learned the first time she’d met him. With a casual motion, he’d flipped the rope and looped it about her arms, pulling it tight, trapping her. He’d stepped close, put his leg behind hers and levered her backwards to the ground.

It was quick and in spite of telling herself she was ready for anything, the speed and effectiveness of the attack had stunned her. Before she could fight back, she’d been neatly bound. She’d told him he’d won, speaking quietly; he’d reacted by putting a rag in her mouth and binding that.

He’d picked her up and had carried her one-handed back to camp, up the hill, depositing her into the care of Lady Judy. Tanda had made a few noises, but there was never any chance of being released; she’d tried to untie her hands, but knew almost at once that it might take days.

Moreover, he’d been right in the morning, putting one of the troopers with her. The young man knew the signal codes, and at her request had flashed messages out to any scouts in the basins. Not only was the young man sweet on Tazi, he could run and he could signal. Still, there had been no reply to their attempts to communicate. It hadn’t been much of a hope, but perhaps they could have learned something.

Now, Count Errock appeared. Manistewa was already sitting quietly in the Council Chamber.

Count Errock turned to Tanda first. “Please do not try to send messages in the future. The scouts report them and will not respond unless you have the right code.”

Tanda bowed her head. Altogether, not a good day!

The first scouts hadn’t gotten far and only a fraction had been told to signal the first afternoon.

After saying that, Count Errock turned to Tuck. “The Lady Elspeth spent most of the day with Logistos Glaxos. He has requested her services. Even though you said you were willing, know that the logistos will become the most unpopular man in Outpost in the event of a siege. He is the one who determines who eats and who goes hungry.”

Tuck inclined his head. “Perhaps she can put a pleasant face on the unpleasantness.”

Tanda didn’t think that would help. Moreover, Elspeth wasn’t likely to ever be guilty of having a pleasant expression.

“Captain Leitnos, how goes the training?” Count Errock asked his man.

Captain Leitnos started speaking of the difficulties. “The tubes are very hot after being fired. We can’t leave them behind, so we’ll need to make some sort of leather carry straps that we can use to transport them.

“Count Errock, those little guns eat bombs like a bear eats berries in a berry patch!” He nodded at Tuck, “Captain Tuck kept the firing slow, but I timed it by counting. A five count, Lord Errock. If you are in a hurry, a five count is measured fire. You could cut that in half if you were firing against a well spread-out target, like a large enemy force.

“A twenty count, Lord, for aimed fire. You could fire the entire thousand rounds in a long afternoon of battle. The bombs weigh twelve pounds, sir, and are packed in boxes of three, boxes that weigh another three pounds. We were careful; none of the bombs were dropped. I have no idea if they would explode if dropped.”

“They might,” Tuck agreed. “That and we had one this afternoon that didn’t explode on impact. Sergeant Vosper exploded it with a rifle shot. That was one of the dozen mortar rounds we fired. The good news is that I suspect that picking one up will be dangerous; a curious enemy may do your work for you. The bad news is that clever artisans will be able to duplicate them within a few moons.”

“And accuracy?” the count asked.

“Unbelievable, Lord Count,” Captain Leitnos reported. “Three shots to get within a few feet.”

Tuck cautioned, “Count, we are shooting at a range of less than a mile. Further than a mile, it will take more shots to get on target. Of course, the proper use of mortars at that range is against dispersed targets.”

Tanda watched Tuck lift his eyes and meet the count’s. “Sir, I haven’t asked. How do your soldiers fight? How does one army engage another?”

“The High King has taught us to adapt our tactics to the situation. Cavalry typically attack in a loose line abreast. Mainly they fight enemy cavalry. Infantry fights in ranks of three, two or one, depending on how much impact the commander desires.”

Tuck nodded. “Ranks fire as one, or by numbers?” Tuck asked the Count.

“In theory we could have them fire by number, but in practice, it’s much easier to have an entire rank fire at once.”

“And has anyone looked over enemy dead after a battle? To see how many of them were struck by how many bullets?”

Gamelin cleared his throat. “We honor the dead, even of our enemies.”

“Fine, but you do bury them, right?” Tuck asked.

“Of course. Rough graves, but the priests of Galzar Wolf’s Head say words praising their bravery and honor to speed them on their way.”

“Then your men can count wounds,” Tuck said harshly. “One, two, three, many. I’m betting that there are a lot of the ‘many’ category.”

“The men are trained to fire directly to their front,” Count Errock told Tuck.

“And I’m sure they try, but in a battle you tend to focus on something and stay focused until that changes. Maybe your target is in front of you, maybe not.”

Count Errock nodded, knowing the truth of what Tuck said.

“So, you would have us shoot by number as well?”

“Yes, sir. It is a matter of training. It isn’t something you can teach in an afternoon, but if you keep at it, day after day, then the men can do it in their sleep.”

“We try to keep drill simple,” Captain Leitnos told Tuck.

“Your soldiers are good men,” Tuck replied. “If something is explained to them, then you show them how it works...they are like puppies, eager to please.”

Count Errock looked across the table his eyes on Tuck, then on the others. “I think, Sergeant Vosper, that you feel an urge to speak, but are concerned about speaking in front of us.”

Vosper nodded.

“Then talk, Sergeant. The reason each of you is at this table is that I need the thinking of as many people as possible. If you see something wrong or if you can think of a better way to do something, you must speak.”

“Count Errock, when I was a boy, most soldiers couldn’t tell one foot from another. Counting beyond two or three wasn’t something they could do. Even then, most weren’t stupid–it was just that they’d never needed to know those things.

“Now, many of the men have learned to read and write in one of the High King’s Winter Schools. You talk about using one of Tuck’s charges to help the logistos. That is good! But Count Errock, there are five hundred men in Outpost who can read and write. Most of them are enlisted men.

“These men, Count Errock, can count. I saw it today, my Lord. Captain Leitnos saw it too. Captain Tuck worked with the men of Lieutenant Gamelin’s patrol. They learned difficult tasks and learned them quickly. They laughed, sir. The men were laughing and putting extra effort into showing how well they could do, just to please Captain Tuck.

“Count Errock, there are twenty men out there who would follow Captain Tuck wherever he led.” The sergeant lapsed back into silence, a silence that continued from all of the others in the room.

Count Errock turned to Tanda. “Attaché Tanda Havra, do you have any observations?”

Tanda bowed her head. “Count Errock, I am a village woman. My name was bestowed on me for killing deer, not men. Now, I’ve killed men. I’ve failed a time or two, as well.” She glanced at Tuck, who grinned at her.

“Sergeant Vosper is right. I’ve seen your soldiers before, when they come to Mogdai. Most do what they are told, but there is no spark. Men commanded by Captain Tuck have a spark.”

“Captain Tuck, Captain Leitnos. Do you think that the men can be ready in a moon quarter to launch a raid on the enemy?”

“Yes, Count,” Tuck said quickly.

Captain Leitnos shrugged. “I don’t know, Count Errock. That seems to be a very short time to train so many in an unfamiliar skill.”

“Captain,” Tanda spoke up, a little angry, “I watched them this afternoon. They fired on targets the gunners couldn’t see, guided by others. By the end of the practice, they were hitting the targets on the third shot. Sometimes the second shot. I wouldn’t have thought men could be trained so fast. Lord Count, I know the signals. I listened; I think I could do as well as those men. I think Lady Judy could do as well. I think Captain Leitnos could do as well.”

“You’re not saying they are ready today?” Count Errock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, Count Errock,” Tuck told him. “There is more to this than hitting a target. Your men know much, but there are some things they’ve not paid much attention to. The Mexicotál are said to take pleasure sneaking into a camp and killing men in their sleep, while the guards walk unawares. I can’t say it won’t happen to a camp I command, but I can say that before I’m finished with these men, it will be much more difficult. There are other things, things that in my language we call tradecraft.” The last word was in English.

“That is something like what Manistewa does, the skill in always getting the best from a deal. Only we apply it to any job well learned.”

“Tradecraft?” Count Errock repeated the word, and then smiled at Tuck. “That is a clever term, Captain. I like it. Tradecraft.”

For the smallest, briefest moment, Tanda saw Tuck’s eyes start to flick towards her, and then stop.

She suppressed the shiver that ran down her back. The High King had introduced a dozen English words into the language. It had taken some time for them to be adopted, for the most part. But after that first dozen or so, the High King had learned enough Zarthani to use concepts in that language and not his own.

What if Tuck deliberately started adding more English words to Zarthani? Speaking would become a nightmare. Worse, there were four others besides Tuck, who might teach English words to people. The Paracops were going to have to think about each and every sentence they heard and spoke. It was going to be a nightmare!

III

Freidal stood next to Xitki Quillan, Count of the Central Valley, the second most powerful man in the Zarthani city states. The cavalry leading the approaching column was riding at a walk, so as not to get too far ahead of the soldiers marching in long ranks behind them.

“My,” Freidal said softly to his father’s friend, “what a great many plumes Captain-General Delos sports!”

Xitki turned and glanced at Freidal’s helmet, shorn of two plumes. “You’re just jealous.” The words were spoken lightly, devoid of any serious intent.

Freidal glanced at the small coterie of priests and officers a few yards distant from the two of them.

“I don’t know who to thank for my being here, Xitki. If it was any of your doing, thank you.”

“And you should know enough to understand that I’d never have permitted it, if I’d been given a choice.”

Freidal wasn’t offended. “Lord Count, sometimes we are just leaves in a freshet, beset and helpless to control where it is we go.”

“Give me a break, Freidal!” the count said with a chuckle. “Don’t get metaphysical on me! Leave that for the Dralm-damned priests!”

“Dralm isn’t welcome any more in our camps,” Freidal said carefully, making a simple statement, as if he wasn’t criticizing the idea.

“More’s the pity,” Xitki Quillan responded, unconcerned about what anyone thought. “Instead, we have a dozen of Styphon’s Consecrated. Men who have to rely on purchasing friends. And the Mexicotál priests. There’s not a Zarthani here who doesn’t watch them, afraid they might need some new blood to sacrifice to their God-King.”

“And yet, here we are,” Freidal commented.

“And here we are and here we will do our best,” Xitki said, trying to close down any further discussion down this line.

“Are the Mexicotál priests and their general, Uxmal, going to be upset that Captain-General Delos got here two days ahead of schedule?” Freidal asked.

“No. Earlier, Uxmal told me that their road isn’t going well. In truth, they have to cover three times the distance we have to cover. They are behind schedule; we are behind schedule. At least their officers aren’t stupid enough to outrun the road.”

Freidal decided that a twenty-five-year-old captain in the Zarthani cavalry shouldn’t giggle at jokes like a young girl.

“And just what is it that the captain-general’s men are going to eat for the next two moon quarters?” Freidal asked innocently.

Xitki Quillan laughed. “I told the captain-general that we had no rations for them. That his men would eat what they carried, until the wagons start arriving. The captain-general assured me that each of his five thousand men left the river carrying two moon quarters of rations.”

“And it has taken them five days of ‘hard’ marching to get this far,” Freidal sneered. “And the road is delayed a moon quarter. In theory, the first wagons will arrive four days before his men run out of things to eat.”

Xitki didn’t respond, he just stood, watching the troops approach, now less than a mile away.

“Have you told the captain-general how things are going?” Freidal asked, knowing he was needling the older man.

“The villages along the rivers have been destroyed, per the Great Plan,” Xitki said. “The Mexicotál dealt with them, as the Great Plan stated. The body count was about a hundred and fifty villagers against five hundred and twenty of the Mexicotál. Their high priest said he was pleased at how easy it was.”

“And the Hostigi signal station? Was that easy?”

Xitki Quillan turned to Freidal. “Coming from a man who brought back how many bodies, strapped to their horses?”

Freidal lifted his chin. “I attacked an enemy the same size as my patrol. They fought better than we did, and that’s my private shame. The Mexicotál attacked five men with a hundred...and lost more than I did.”

“One day, Freidal, it is my dream that you will stand where I stand now. It won’t happen unless you learn your lessons; lessons that your father and his men neglected to give you. One of the things you have to learn is that sometimes, victory suffices.”

“The Mexicotál sent three thousand men and we sent five thousand to build this fort,” Freidal said. “We’ve lost thirty men, the Mexicotál more than six hundred. And we’ve killed how many Hostigi? A dozen? If that?”

“And now five thousand more of our countrymen are here,” Xitki told him, “and in another moon quarter, so they say, five thousand more Mexicotál. Then we wait for wagons to bring us enough supplies so that we can force the Barrier. Then, when we’ve conquered the Barrier, we invest Outpost.”

Xitki tapped himself on the chest. “My main contribution to the Great Plan? Our grandiose scheme to overthrow Hostigos and their High King? Why, that was the idea that we would spend an entire campaign season defeating a small town that, back in the Central Valley, my men alone could destroy in the first attack.”

Freidal glanced at the older man. “I’m not sure that’s what I would call planning. Predicting defeat, perhaps.”

Xitki laughed, not offended. “Ah, the voice of youth! Freidal, listen to me! This isn’t the Central Valley, where I have garrisons no further than a day’s ride apart! The first rule of planning a great undertaking: make sure you give yourself thrice the worst imaginable time you think it will take. Then be prepared to defend the further delays!

“We are already a half moon behind the Great Plan and we haven’t met any significant resistance from the Hostigi. It is the desert itself that’s taking the greatest toll!” Xitki waved towards the north. “Thirty miles in that direction is a wall of rock, five hundred times higher than a tall man!”

“The Hostigi have to have a means to go up and down!” Freidal said.

“We know a few paths suitable for men, one suitable for horses. None suitable for wagons. Climbing that barrier, Freidal will consume an entire day, perhaps more, of wagon time. To go just a mile or two. If we are unopposed.”

A dozen men in the lead of the column started galloping towards the beginnings of the camp that Xitki Quillan and his men had been working on for a moon quarter.

“Have a care, Freidal. Think. Before you say anything, before you do anything, think. Or it’s a very sad tale I’m going to tell your father.”

Freidal reached out his hand and put it on the old man’s shoulder. “Uncle, my greatest aspiration is to have my father’s approval and yours.” He waved at Captain-General Delos galloping to close the last mile. “That man will arrive on a lathered horse, his men will arrive on lathered horses and they will have to spend more time cooling them down than it would have taken to trot the last mile.”

“Enough, Freidal!”

IV

Gamelin sat down at the fire, stretching out his legs in front of him.

Vosper handed him a flagon of watered wine, and Gamelin took a sip, before looking around the camp.

The men were sitting around the cook fires, intent on the evening meal. Gamelin could hear snatches of words, proud and confident and some laughter.

“I wish they’d felt like this on patrol,” Gamelin told Vosper.

Vosper chuckled. “Lieutenant, command is like any other skill. You have to learn it. Tuck said it, did he not? His duty for his king was to go among the soldiers of the army of an ally and teach them soldiering. Would his king have sent a man who couldn’t do it? Or one who did it better than well?”

“If all of the officers of Tuck’s army were as competent as he is, then they must have made short shrift of their enemies!” Gamelin said with confidence.

Vosper shook his head. “You didn’t hear Tuck talking about deer flies this afternoon, Lieutenant! You can slap a fly and kill it dead–if you hit it. Hitting it, even after it’s bitten you–that’s the trick!”

Gamelin had his share of fly bites. In the Trygath they had midges and gnats, not to mention mosquitoes. Those were a nuisance, particularly the mosquitoes. But here, the deer flies, if they bit you–well, you knew it. And you would have the welt to prove it.

“What have deer flies got to do with anything?” Gamelin demanded.

“Lieutenant, a deer fly knows you are about to slap it. It flies away before you can. Soldiers like those Captain Tuck fought knew the larger army of their enemies were going to strike them and they would flee before they could be struck.”

“It still doesn’t seem honorable,” Gamelin said, a little petulantly.

Tuck sat down next to Gamelin, Judybondi in tow. Of course, with Tuck next to Gamelin, Judybondi had to sit across from Gamelin, not next to him, as Gamelin would have preferred.

Tuck must have been listening to them. “Lieutenant, you have told me of your home. Suppose raiders were to come towards your home. Many more raiders than there were defenders. But you could call on your Lord and your Lord would send more than enough soldiers to destroy the raiders.

“Tell me, Gamelin, if you knew that if you delayed the raiders a day, your Lord would be there in force, would you fight for that day?”

“Of course,” Gamelin told him. “That just makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” Tuck agreed. “And if you saw the raiders were ready for such a counterattack? If you knew that likely the counterattack would fail–would you still attack?”

“If there was no other way–of course.”

Tuck nodded sagely. “Gamelin, we tell a story where we are from.

“A man is condemned to death, for trying to steal from the king.”

“Hang him!” Gamelin said, thinking he was funny.

“For sure!” Tuck replied. “Except the king was having a really good year. Everything was going his way. He told the condemned man: ‘You may make a wish, wish for anything except that I spare your life and I will grant it.’

“The man looked the king in his eye and said, ‘Your Majesty has the most noble steed in the land! Your horse, sire, is the smartest, wisest beast in the world! I think, sire, I could teach him to sing.’

“And of course the king and all of the king’s men laughed at this, because horses don’t sing. ‘No,’ said the man, ‘I speak the truth. Give me a year and a day. If your horse doesn’t sing, then have me tortured, flayed a bit at time, then drawn and quartered instead of just chopping off my head.’”

Tuck grinned at Gamelin. “So, curious, the king agreed.”

“That is absurd,” Gamelin said heatedly, “you can’t teach a horse to sing.”

“I know that, you know that,” Tuck agreed. “But what does a horse know? In a year the king could die, the man could die or perhaps the horse might learn to sing.”

Gamelin knew that he’d missed the point of the joke, but bulled on anyway. “And this has what to do with the Zarthani attack?”

“Gamelin, in my example, you were faced with a choice. Die against the enemy or pull back and try to think of something else. So long as you are between the enemy and those you seek to defend, postpone fighting if you aren’t sure that you can win. Alive, even feeble, you provide some sort of check against them. Dead, you’re gone. You are no longer part of anyone’s calculations. The essence of winning a battle, Gamelin, is always being a factor in the final outcome. It goes double when you talk about winning a war.”

Gamelin walked later, with Judybondi, out towards the outer picket, but kept within the lines. Everyone knew what had happened to Tanda Havra, even if not a single word had been spoken about it by Tuck, Tanda Havra or Judybondi.

Judybondi stood looking back towards the southwest. “Tuck doesn’t want to say it, you don’t. But you lived there, didn’t you?” Gamelin asked softly.

She laughed. “I thought I did. Now I’ve had a chance to really live. It’s exhilarating!”

“Tuck has told you and now I’ll tell you: this isn’t a wise choice you are making,” Gamelin told her.

“And I’ve also heard it’s a choice I get to make.”

Gamelin sighed. “Even Count Errock doesn’t know what to do. Women fighting–that has happened. But never before, not someone who wasn’t husband-high.”

Judybondi rounded on him. “And what, one day those women who fight reached a magic age and like magic, they decided ‘Today, I’m ready to fight!’”

“There are a lot of reasons why people fight,” Gamelin told her.

“Your High Queen, Rylla,” Judybondi told him. “One day the High King appeared and she decided, ‘I want a part of this!’ and she joined the battle?”

“No, of course not. Prince Ptosphes had no son; the High Queen was a tomboy, growing up. Her first battle, though, was the one where she shot Lord Kalvan. Since then, she’s been in many battles.”

“Well, if you’re worried about that, the first time I was in battle, I didn’t have anything to shoot with. I’ve learned one or two things since then–some of them from you. I don’t think you have anything to worry about on my account that you don’t have to worry about on your own account.”

Gamelin didn’t understand all her words, but the tone and what words he could understand were clear.

She stood up and walked away from him, obviously angry.

Gamelin went back to the fire and sat down, feeling depressed. Tuck stirred the fire with a stick. “Tell me, Lieutenant. Why do you name her Judybondi instead of two words, Judy Bondi? As you do Tanda Havra?”

Gamelin looked at Tuck, surprised. “Civilized persons have only one name, Tuck.”

“My true name, as I told you once, is William Tucker.”

Gamelin remembered that vaguely; it had been a while ago.

“Am I uncivilized, Lieutenant?” Tuck pressed him.

“No, of course not. But you have a proper name. Tuck.”

Tuck laughed. “Gamelin, that’s the name my friends gave me. It’s shorter, you see. Where we come from, only people like the Ruthani have one name. We civilized people have two.”

“I don’t understand your meaning,” Gamelin said, rubbing his chin.

“Judy Bondi’s friends call her Judy. I call her Judy. Count Errock, Tanda Havra and Tazi called her Judybondi to begin with, but lately they have realized their mistake and now call her Lady Judy.”

It was the comment about what all her friends called her that led Gamelin to realize every time he used her name, he wasn’t using the form her friends used...worse he didn’t even have her name right!

“That’s a stupid way to do things!” Gamelin said under his breath, but not quietly enough that Tuck didn’t hear him.

“Gamelin, we do it the way we do because that is our custom. Your names are the way they are because of your custom. Tradition. It means nothing, not really. But it’s what we are familiar with and the unfamiliar takes getting used to. Friends, though, are particularly patient with each other.”

Gamelin nodded, understanding now. Thinking and thinking.


	16. The Raid -- Execution

I

Gamelin lowered himself wearily to his favorite rock in the camp on the eastern shore of the lake.

For a moon quarter Tuck had drilled the men who would take part in the raid. The decision had been made early on that a party of thirty men would go on the raid, six mortars, each with a crew of four, plus a half dozen others, not including Gamelin as Captain Leitnos’ deputy and Judy as Tuck’s. Tanda Havra was coming along and Tazi with her; they would be scouts.

Gamelin was sure that his father would have raised more than an eyebrow at the thought of having so many women along on a raiding party. He would have cursed and sworn fulsome oaths about even one woman. And what he would have said about the notion that they would take no horses with them on the raid defied Gamelin’s imagination.

Starting the third day, every morning before breakfast and every evening before dinner, they ran. Not just any run, but every person carrying the same gear as they would carry with them on the raid. And they didn’t run a mile or so, but four miles. They were supposed to keep in formation, but that had yet to happen.

And that had been embarrassing for all of them, except Tuck, Tanda Havra and Tazi and one of Gamelin’s troopers, Hestius. The first morning, Tuck, Tanda, Tazi and Hestius had run the circle that every man in the raid had come to hate. Four miles. Gamelin could remember running that far as a boy, without a thought.

But that was without a backpack that weighed more than a hundred pounds, closer to a hundred and fifty. And a rifle. True, the three women carried the smallest packs. Judy’s was the lightest, at eighty pounds, followed by Tazi’s at a hundred pounds. But Tanda Havra and Tuck both carried hundred and forty pound packs, as did Gamelin and Captain Leitnos. Hestius carried a hundred and sixty pounds.

That first morning, most of the men were walking at the end of the first mile. Lady Judy had run a little further and Gamelin only a little further himself. Tuck must have said something to Vosper, because the sergeant brought up the end of the column, yelling at any laggard. He even yelled at Captain Leitnos, who was slow only the once.

And, having seen a moon quarter of this, Gamelin understood why Tuck was training a hundred men with mortars, even if only thirty would be used for the raid. The ones who couldn’t run the course by the end of the moon quarter would be left behind to teach mortars to others. They were going to leave a solid core of skilled people for Count Errock to use. A clever idea! Not to mention all the troopers who were able to run the miles needed!

At least this day he’d managed to run the entire distance without stopping. Of course, he was so tired he could hardly stand at the end of the day, but he’d kept up with Tuck.

Tuck came back from the lakeside, having washed his face and hands. “Count Errock wants us,” he told Gamelin and Captain Leitnos who was even now swinging his pack to the ground.

“Ah, nothing like a row across the lake,” the captain growled, “to finish out another glorious day!”

They walked down the shore and two rowboats took them quickly towards the citadel. It was a blessing from Dralm, Gamelin thought, that others rowed and not those from the raiding party.

The half dozen in their party walked up the hill, mostly silent. At the top, as they were about to go inside, Judy laughed. “I can’t believe how feather-light I feel! The first time I had to climb up here, the hill seemed to go on forever!”

“Practice, practice, practice!” Tuck joked.

“Another year or two of practice like this,” Tanda Havra said, “you’ll probably be able to keep up with Tazi–if Tazi gets fat and lazy.”

Tazi punched the older woman on the arm and everyone laughed. It was also true, that in the morning Tanda Havra and Tazi, backpacks and all, had run at their own pace instead of the one Tuck used. They ran the course twice in the time it took the rest of them to go around once. It was a sobering reminder of what they would face if they came up against Mexicotál infantry, Tuck told them later.

Count Errock and his staff were drawn up in the Council Chamber. All of Tuck’s other charges were there as well, each sitting next to an officer. Count Errock had been blunt. “These officers have assistants now and we have three additional junior officers who can serve in the field. I don’t want to hear complaints.”

Count Errock pulled a cover off an easel, showing a large map of the lands he commanded or watched over. “I have sent out many three-man patrols into the area to our west and south. So far, only one of these had been intercepted. The others are reporting now, fairly regularly. They signal in the early morning or late afternoon, then move on before the Zarthani can respond.”

He pointed to a line on the map that started at the Mud River, far to the west. “This is the Zarthani road. They must have been working on it over the winter. They have bridged a number of sandy washes. These are very clever bridges. They don’t bridge water; they bridge the sand, so that wagons can be drawn across without bogging down.

“The road ends here,” he marked a spot on the map, about twenty miles from where Mogdai had been. “There are about two hundred men working on it, and they should be up to this spot here,” he touched a star drawn on the map, “in a moon quarter.

“This spot is where they are building some sort of fort. They are building a low stone wall to circle it; there are two stone buildings under construction. Most of the Mexicotál the scouts have seen are being used as labor. The reports are that there are about three thousand Mexicotál infantry and a thousand Zarthani cavalry there, another five thousand Zarthani infantry.”

Gamelin saw Tuck frown for a heartbeat, then suddenly jerk his head, as if he’d suddenly understood something.

“Captain Tuck?” the count asked, having noticed the same thing.

“I was wondering why with that many soldiers they weren’t more effective against your patrols. You just told me. Odds are, the guy in charge is cavalry,” Tuck said. “We had the same problem in my king’s army.”

“They have a dozen field guns,” Count Errock went on, “and Tanda Havra was correct: those guns are being serviced by the Mexicotál. If Styphon has armed the Mexicotál with fireseed and cannon that mistake dwarfs all the others. We will pay for that for a hundred years.”

The room was silent as everyone digested the information.

“It sounds like we could attack the road construction crew,” Captain Leitnos spoke.

“No,” Tuck said. “By the time we could get there, they’d be nearly to this fort. Better, by far, not to get them thinking about the road. Not just yet. When we hit it, we want to tie them in knots, cut it in a dozen places. Until then, we want traffic on the road, traffic that we can attack.

“No, we’ll hit their fort, as planned.”

Gamelin had nodded at everything Tuck had said, right up until he spoke the last few words.

“Captain Tuck! Count Errock just said there are nearly ten thousand men at that fort! Thirty against so many thousands?” Gamelin couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“It will depend. I’ll grant you my original thought was to ambush a very strong patrol. But the fort offers too tempting a target.”

“You call thirty against ten thousand tempting?” Captain Leitnos asked, his voice a little more neutral, but as concerned as Gamelin had been. After all, he’d be in command of the attack.

“Sure. Odds are, those men are sitting around the fort, pulling guard duty, just going through the motions. When you have ten thousand friends around you, and all you’ve seen of the enemy are a few small patrols and the backs of the largest patrol–all of two dozen men–you’re not exactly going to be shaking in your boots.” Tuck grinned nastily. “We’ll show them the error of their ways.”

Tuck gestured at the map. “Even so, we’ll have to be quick. What do you know about further south, towards the Mexicotál lands?”

“If there is a Mexicotál road, the scouts have not found it. They have found no large numbers of Mexicotál troops moving northwards, either. The scouts continue to search, though; there is a lot of rough country down there, to the south and east.

“I sent six of my people, along with two of Manistewa’s, to enlist the aid of the village folk in their mountain fortress. They would make excellent scouts. My men carried bags of signal mirrors and will teach them to signal. Not many are literate, so that will be a problem, but Manistewa tells me not as big a problem as it could be.”

Tuck nodded. “Then, what we need is to get some good eyes on that fort, as soon as possible. We need to know the terrain, the layout, guard schedules, patrol schedules...every last little thing.”

“I will go,” Tanda Havra spoke up. “Tazi and I can leave tonight. There is enough light for us to travel to the Barrier. Tomorrow we will descend, and then travel fast. Morning, day after next, we will be there. I know the spot, so does Tazi. It isn’t far from Mogdai, although this fort is across the river from where our village was.”

She turned to Count Errock. “Do your scouts tell you where their scouts are? Particularly east of the mountains?”

“They haven’t seen anything on this side of the mountains. Their patrols, what few of them there are, are going north, on the western bank of the Wen-rotos. I believe they will try to come at us from the west, instead of directly up the Barrier,” Count Errock spoke.

He turned to Tuck. “And you, Captain Tuck, what do you think of Tanda Havra’s proposal?”

Tuck sighed. “I did say we needed eyes there fast.” Tuck looked up at the count. “Sir, Tanda can get there in two days, she says. Two days watching, another two days back. Six days, just for the scouting trip. Then three or four days for the patrol to march on their fort, another day to make a final check. Nine or ten days in all. I think that’s too long, Count. 

“I say let Tanda and Tazi leave tonight; the raiders will leave tomorrow morning, before High Sun. We should be close to the mountains by the time we stop tomorrow evening. Another day to march closer, perhaps part of a second; then lie up until night. Launch the raid that night. The moon will be nearly full and rises just at sunset. We will hit them, disengage and return. Call it four nights from now, for the attack and we’ll probably return a little quicker than we went, having much lighter packs.”

The count turned to Captain Leitnos. “Your thoughts, Captain?”

“If they aren’t on this side of the mountains, we can probably approach safely enough. But they would certainly patrol heavily around this fort.”

“Count Errock?” Tuck asked. “What sort of patrols have they been sending out from their fort?”

Count Errock stared at Tuck. “Every morning a mounted patrol of about thirty men goes north, along the river’s west bank. Every evening a patrol returns from the west. We think they patrol for a moon quarter, half out and half back.”

“And how far back from the river is this fort?” Tuck asked.

“The scouts say about two hundred paces and that it sits on a small rise. The camp is about a three hundred paces long and half that wide, they have their horse lines up against the river side of the fort.”

Tanda Havra nodded. “Yes, I’m sure I know the spot. Tuck, there are some bluffs across the river, a mile from the fort.”

Tuck smiled. “And at a mile, we can put a mortar round inside something as large as the fort easily. We won’t be very accurate, but with ten thousand men packed into a camp that size, accuracy isn’t a factor.”

“Don’t forget a thousand horses,” Judy Bondi added.

Tuck grimaced. “Judy, the sound a mortally-wounded man makes is a terrible thing. The sound a mortally-wounded horse makes will give you nightmares.”

Gamelin saw Judy look around the table, at the stony faces that lined it.

Judy stared at Tanda Havra. “And you’ve heard this?”

Tanda nodded, but it was Tazi who spoke. “We eat horses, Lady Judy. The squeal a rabbit makes when you kill it isn’t pleasant either. We do what we must to eat.”

“And I will do it, too,” Judy said defiantly. “You say I have a choice. Well, I’ve made my choice; stop trying to get me to change my mind.”

II

Judy stared at those around the table. The only way, she was sure, that she’d be able to get them to accept her was to do what she had to do.

Later she talked for a bit with Becky and Lydia, who had interesting stories of their own to tell. When Judy was walking back to the landing to get a rowboat back to the camp, Elspeth was waiting.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Elspeth said.

Judy nodded and stopped walking. Elspeth looked around and then spoke quietly. “The logistos and I have gone over your supplies; tell Tuck that overnight the last of what he’s requested will be brought over.”

“Okay. Thanks, Elspeth.”

Elspeth ran her hand over her stomach. “If I didn’t have this growing inside me, I’d be out there with you.”

“Everyone says it’s stupid thing to do,” Judy told her.

“Maybe. But I’m like you and Tuck. I believe in paying my debts. I also have to think of the baby. Not only can’t I go out, I won’t be going out for some time to come. I don’t want my child to be an orphan like that baby from Tanda’s village.”

“I understand.”

“Understand this, too,” Elspeth went on, “The logistos is a nice man, a widower. His wife died in childbirth three years ago. He and I...”

Judy smiled slightly. “You two get along, eh?”

Elspeth smiled slightly back. “Yes, we get along.”

Judy shook her head, fighting a sigh. “At least you’re husband-high.”

Elspeth chuckled. “Judy, you’ve got that guy so wrapped around your little finger, he’ll do anything you ask.” Elspeth reached out and took Judy by the shoulder. “Girl, listen to me! If you want to be a wife and mom, why, you go ahead and give in to your urges. But Judy, if you want to do the things you say you do, you can’t get pregnant. There are no rubbers here, Judy.

“I wasn’t a virgin when I was raped. I had a couple of boyfriends and a couple of times we went all the way. It was a crapshoot, each and every time. I thought I was ready for it, but the reality isn’t something you can prepare for. And even then the preparations fell apart.”

“In other words, keep my legs shut, even if I like Gamelin,” Judy told her.

“Keep them shut particularly because you like him. At least until you’re husband-high. Then you can make a choice. Go my route or keep on with your notion of trying to be Super Girl or Wonder Woman. If you want those last choices, you’re going to need a very, very long engagement.”

The two stood silently for a moment, and then Elspeth hugged Judy. “You be careful! Keep that knife handy! Come back!”

Judy found one man at the small pier where the small boats were kept. The man gave her a gap-toothed grin and tossed the line into one of the smaller rowboats. Judy took one oar and he took the other. They sat side by side as they rowed.

Judy wasn’t sure which fascinated the man more: her breasts or her knife. When they reached the shore, there was no one around the landing. Judy thanked him and started towards the camp, a very dark several hundred yards away.

She wasn’t surprised to hear a furtive footstep behind her. She whirled, her knife out, just as the man lunged at her.

She was head and shoulders taller than he was, and she found in the next few seconds, stronger than he was too. She was also about a foot or so higher on the trail–it all combined to mean the man never had a chance. He stumbled backwards and fell on his back. Judy leaned down, the point of her knife touching the base of his throat.

His throat worked, his eyes were filled with fear. “You never want me to see you again, do you understand?” Judy told the man quietly. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”

She pressed a tiny bit with the knife, bringing a tiny bead of blood from his skin. “Good night, now.” She turned and walked away, not hurrying.

She found Gamelin, Vosper and Captain Leitnos talking by a small fire. She joined them and Vosper looked at her and smiled and spoke. “You didn’t see Captain Tuck? He said he was going to wait for you down by the lake.”

“Maybe I actually found him asleep,” Judy joked. All of them laughed, because so far, no one had found Tuck to be really asleep with his hat pulled down.

“I don’t see Tanda either,” Judy said. “Maybe they went for a walk?”

Tanda appeared out of the darkness. “I thought I was good in the dark. Tuck...he is a ghost.”

“You don’t make much noise either,” Tuck said appearing a few yards away. He turned to Judy. “Your boatman slipped and hit his head. I helped him collect himself.”

Judy tried to fight the burst of bright anger that filled her instantly. “I don’t need to be protected!” she said in English, as angry as she’d ever been.

Tuck replied in English as well. “And if you’d said what you just said in their language, you’d have killed that man! Have a care, Judy!”

“But I didn’t, did I?” she demanded. “So maybe I’m not as stupid as I look!”

“Judy, your attitude is dangerous, do you understand? There are going to be more than thirty people on the raid. One person who can’t control their temper could get everyone killed and make us fail in our mission. One person who is so full of herself that she won’t listen to advice or take commonsense precautions.”

“What did you do to that man?” Judy asked.

“Why, nothing. I helped him up, told him how lucky he was not to have been hurt much worse in a nasty fall like that and that after this, he probably shouldn’t run on the trail at night, it could be really dangerous. Last I saw him, he was rowing back towards Outpost.”

“I don’t need to be watched, okay?”

Tuck smiled. “Judy, you are going to have me, want it or not, hovering. As Tazi will have Tanda and Gamelin has Vosper. There’s a reason why veterans hover around youngsters at first, Judy. Just relax, listen and learn. You have good instincts, girl. Don’t go getting so wrapped up in yourself that you stop listening to the advice we give you.”

Tuck turned to Tanda. “If you two are ready...”

Tanda Havra grinned. “Yes, we are ready. One of these days I have to find out if you can run like you sneak around in the dark.”

Tuck shook his head. “I learned to ride before I learned to run. I’m spoiled.”

A few minutes later Tanda and Tazi vanished into the darkness. For a few moments all they could hear were soft footfalls, then there was nothing.

Judy turned to Tuck. “We still have a hundred men in the camp.”

Tuck nodded, his eyes alight with mirth. “Yes, and it took a whole lot of persuading to get Captain Leitnos not to pass the word to get ready. Nope, tomorrow morning, right in the middle of breakfast, we tell them to pack and be ready to go in a palm width. In a palm width, we’ll see who’s ready. Vosper and Gamelin have been making a list of who has done the best on the runs. We’ll be on the trail two palm widths after sunrise.”

“Then, I should pack my things,” Judy said, nodding.

“You bet. You’ll be inspected too, by Vosper. I inspect Gamelin and Vosper and Captain Leitnos will look over my pack. Piece of cake!”

Judy had been carrying her own tent, strapped to her own pack frame, but on the raid she was taking just a pad and a blanket instead of her sleeping bag and tent.

Tuck had explained how things were split up among the men. Each man had his basic combat pack, with food, shelter half and other items. They carried rifle ammunition and powder, enough for fifty shots. Their rifles were short, what Tuck called cavalry carbines, but every fifth man had a long rifle instead of the shorter one; altogether it weighed about sixty pounds.

Then there were the mortars. The mortars came in three parts, a flat piece of metal that was the base plate it sat on, and which could be leveled. Then there was the tube, and then the bipod legs. The base plate was the heaviest part, weighing about forty pounds. The legs were the lightest, about twenty pounds, and the tube about thirty pounds. A single mortar shell weighed nearly twelve pounds.

Thus, three men on each crew carried a part of the weapon and the fourth carried just mortar shells. The men carrying mortar parts carried one or two mortar shells each; the fourth man carried four, for a total of ten rounds per tube. There were six guards who also carried four rounds, plus the three officers each carried three rounds. Each of the women carried one round, thus there were a total of sixteen rounds per tube. The plan was to fire eleven rounds from each tube into the enemy fort, fall back to their own camp, and if they were being hotly pursued, fire the remaining rounds at whoever was chasing them.

From what Tuck and the others said, Judy had long since figured out that they believed that they would be hotly pursued, because almost all of their planning assumed that the men would be forty to sixty pounds lighter on the return trip.

Judy checked her own things, and then lay down and looked at the familiar stars. It was surprising how quickly she fell asleep.

III

Tanda followed the trail down the Barrier carefully, taking her time.

Tazi had followed silently, until they reached the bottom. “That wasn’t a very fast run, sister!” Tazi kidded her.

Tanda just laughed and started running in earnest. There was enough light by then to travel fast, even if the country wasn’t well known to her. They made good time and stopped only briefly, twice, to drink from streams. In the early morning light Tanda slowed and started moving much more carefully.

“Ready to rest, sister?” Tanda asked a little past mid-morning.

Tazi held her gaze. “Elder sister, I could go until my feet bled and I was cross-eyed with tiredness.”

“They expect us to be in better shape,” Tanda replied with a laugh. “Sister, I am not you. You are not me. Don’t push too hard, Tazi! I have a pebble in my boot and I have to stop for a finger width. I should have stopped before.”

Tazi nodded and they rested for a short time while Tanda worked at relieving her problem. Tanda glanced at Tazi when she was ready and Tazi nodded. The two of them were up and running again. Just past midday, they were both in country they knew well and were going very carefully, but still fast.

Just before they crested the ridge line they slowed to nearly a crawl. From then on, they went even more slowly, sticking to deep cover. In the heat of the mid-afternoon they stopped and rested in the shade of some rocks.

Before the sun was down, they were sitting on a hillside, overlooking the busy camp almost two miles away. The first thing Tanda did was take out a piece of paper she’d been given and made a quick sketch map, with her estimates of the distances. Tazi made some comments about things she noticed that Tanda included.

Just before the sun went down a short column of cavalry came up from the southwest. Tanda counted them and made marks on the map. As the evening progressed there wasn’t much more to see. There was a fire in the center of the camp, plus a few smoke-belching chimneys around the perimeter.

Tazi nodded off to sleep, and Tanda stayed awake another palm width, but there just wasn’t anything going on in the camp. She slept herself, fitfully, never completely asleep.

Long before first light she was ready. For nearly a palm width after it was light enough to see, there was nothing but smoke from fires. Then, when the sun was well up, another small band of cavalry departed the fort, this time going north.

As the sun reached its zenith, three Mexicotál officers arrived on horseback, riding at a trot. Tanda turned to Tazi.

“Tuck should be at the meeting point two miles to the east. Go fetch him. Be careful! Just because we don’t see any Mexicotál scouts, doesn’t mean they aren’t out here!”

Tazi nodded, patted her pistol and squirmed away.

A palm width later, Tuck appeared, with Tazi leading him.

They lay in the full sun, Tuck with his binoculars scanning the camp while Tanda explained what she’d seen. The sun started down and Tuck put the glasses away. “Why do you do that, Tuck?” Tanda asked, knowing why, but wanting to sound curious.

“It’s impossible to hold them still. The sun will glint off the glass, like the glass was a signal mirror. We don’t want them coming up here, looking for one of our scouts.”

Tanda nodded in understanding. A bit later both Captain Leitnos and Gamelin joined them, studying the area.

“There, I think,” Tuck pointed to a wash that came down from the hills, and for about three hundred yards, paralleled the river, before turning one last time and running down to the water. “Plenty of room to set up, out of direct sight from the camp. We can pull back to there,” Tuck pointed to a low ridge a mile from the river, “and if they pursue, hit them at the ford. We will have to use direct fire from there and they will see the flashes. We will have to discourage the pursuit firmly.”

Captain Leitnos grunted in agreement as he too studied the area.

As the sun was just past midday, Vosper and Tazi were watching the camp; the rest of the officers and Tanda sat in the shade of a bush, discussing the attack.

“A palm width before midnight,” Tuck said. “That will be best. We will be able to rapidly pull back, see any pursuit and hit it, and then head back east as quick as our feet will carry us.

“The men should be rested enough,” Captain Leitnos added.

“Yes, and we should spend the evening resting ourselves,” Tuck added.

“You, Tuck, will stay on the ridge with Lady Judy, Tanda Havra and Tazi. I will command the guns in the center and left, Lieutenant Gamelin on the right.”

“I would think,” Tuck said evenly, “that the best place for the commander of the attack would be back on the ridge, where he can see the battlefield.”

Captain Leitnos grinned. “If you want, I can dig around in my pack and find the written order for you to be back from the battle, Captain Tuck. None doubt your courage, not any more.”

“None ever doubted,” Gamelin growled, a little angry.

There was more discussion, and then Captain Leitnos and Gamelin headed back to the camp. Tuck settled down next to Vosper, and Tanda sat down next to Tuck.

“Before the men take positions,” Tuck said quietly to Vosper, “I want to speak to them.”

Vosper glanced at him. “That is Captain Leitnos’ duty, Captain Tuck.”

Tuck chuckled. “No, not that. I want to teach them how to register fire in the dark, while still preserving something like volley fire.”

Vosper looked uneasy. “I don’t think changing the training now would be good.”

“It's not much of a change. The mortar closest to the fort fires first, then the others down the line, firing on a two-count. The spotters can keep track of the rounds that way and adjust as necessary. Once they get on target, they can fire for effect.”

“And what will we be shooting at?” Vosper asked. “We won’t be able to see anything.”

Tuck grinned again. “Shortly, you can watch me make a template. In fact, since you’re going to be there, you all can help me make templates.”

The word template was in English, Tanda tried not to show any particular curiosity, but she was indeed curious.

“Template, Tuck?” she inquired.

“Aye. Watch.” Tuck had been holding a stick he’d found, idly, Tanda had thought, shaving pieces off of it. She’d made a mental note to bury the shavings before they left, but she hadn’t said anything.

He held up the stick at arm’s length. “You measure the stick against the fort, by eye. Hold the stick as far away as you can. Put the left end of the stick on the left edge of the fort and then roughly mark the right edge of the fort on the stick. Measure it long, in case you make a mistake. It’s easy to shorten a stick; harder here to go find a new one if you have to start over.”

Vosper nodded in understanding. Tuck measured and lopped off the end of the stick, measured again and took off a bit more. “Now, what you do is line it up as you did before, then mark on the stick where targets are.” He pointed at the fort. “There is a stone building there, it is tall, with a flat roof. Odds are, that’s their headquarters.”

Tuck held the stick out and measured off the right distance and marked the headquarters. “Off in one corner is another stone building, this one much lower. I think that’s the fireseed store.”

Vosper grunted acknowledgement as Tuck marked that building. “In the middle, a great clear spot. We don’t want to shoot at that, because there’s nothing there.”

Vosper nodded in understanding.

“Now, how to use this. The template is unique–it depends on how far away from the target you are and how long your arm is. The thing is, if you start from further away, the fort looks smaller. The closer you are, the bigger it looks, right?”

Vosper nodded, but he looked unsure, while Tuck went on. “You can hold the template closer to your eyes. Until the template once again is the right width. Then the line to the targets is right once again.”

It took a special miracle for Tanda not to drop her jaw. She’d had some military training, but it had been cursory and mainly directed at being able to report back to the Paracops militarily important information. This was a practical application on a scale the Hostigi would understand easily.

“Make your own template, then tonight, when you’re ready, go to each observer, one after the other. A tube to shoot at the headquarters, two tubes at the powder store, one tube to the left, the last to the right. Draw a line with your template for each observer to his target. It’s not perfect, mind you, but it will get them close.”

Vosper looked at Tuck in awe, “Yes, Captain Tuck!” They spent a palm width, with Vosper making templates. He didn’t just make one; he made three, and at the end, compared them. They were remarkably similar.

Tuck leaned back against a rock, his Stetson came down over his eyes and Tanda met Vosper’s eyes. Both of them could only shrug.

The afternoon dragged on and the shadows started to lengthen. Tanda drowsed for a while, Vosper returned to the camp and Gamelin came and replaced him.

Tanda looked up and saw something in the distance, something curious. It was like a black snake coming from the southeast, debouching from the mountains there. She watched for half a finger width as the black snake lengthened. Without a word, Tuck bellied down next to her, his glasses in hand.

“Something is happening,” Tanda said, pointing. It made her feel stupid, because the reason why Tuck was awake and looking was because he knew something was happening.

After a very short finger width, he turned to Tanda. “My first thought was to send Gamelin back for Vosper and Leitnos. You go. Stay down, you understand? Even small motions at long distances can sometimes be visible!”

Tanda nodded and snaked off, over the other side of the small rise they were on. Tuck nudged Gamelin’s foot as she moved away.

She told the captain that something was happening in the Zarthani fort, and that Tuck had requested that he and Sergeant Vosper come and see. The two men followed her, making no comment on the fact that they didn’t take the shortest route this time.

They too crawled the last few feet to Tuck’s position.

“You can’t see it very well, not yet,” Tuck said, handing the glasses to Vosper first, obviously upsetting Captain Leitnos. “At first I thought they were simply really tall men, then I realized they were carrying something on their backs.”

Vosper used Tuck’s glasses and after a many heartbeats, shook his head. “Captain Tuck, I can see that they carry something, but not what.”

“Pass the glasses to Captain Leitnos,” Tuck commanded and Vosper did so. Tuck explained how they worked to the Captain; long before he got the hang of them, he knew why Tuck had given them to him last.

When the captain too had no idea, Tanda asked for the glasses and she looked.

She turned to Tuck. “A year ago, a man came to Mogdai, from the Mexicotál lands. He rode a horse with what looked like two arrow quivers strung over its neck. They held what looked like many very long arrows. It was a sheaf of river grass, from deep in the Mexicotál lands. It grows, he told us, as high as a man. They harvest it, cutting it into thirds to feed their horses.

“Horses love it,” Tanda finished her thought.

“I’ll be damned,” Tuck muttered under his breath. “We’re seeing someone a half moon late, I bet. That’s the missing ingredient for all those horses the Zarthani brought. The horse fodder.”

Captain Leitnos took the glasses and studied the approaching Mexicotál column more carefully.

“They are in a column of fours,” the captain reported after a second. Tanda could see his mouth moving, as he counted. “More than a thousand men. I keep losing count of the rows after about two hundred and fifty.”

Tuck took the glasses, and counted them himself. As he watched, the last of the column appeared.

“Five thousand,” Tuck announced, “roughly. Within ten percent, anyway.”

The marchers had been ten or so miles away when first seen, they’d halved the distance in the next palm width.

The small command group was quiet and finally Gamelin and Judy Bondi appeared, the latter looking tired, but trying to ignore it.

"What is that?" Judy asked, waving at the column of soldiers.

"That, Judy, is the infantry to the rescue of the cavalry. About five thousand of them."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Five thousand Mexicotál soldiers, each bearing horse fodder," Tuck told her. "Enough to support their cavalry in the field for a moon. More important, the Zarthani road should be done before then and delivering more. I think they will greatly expand their patrolling."

"Five thousand more?" Gamelin looked pale. He looked at the fort, and then at the approaching soldiers. "Captain Tuck, thirty against more than ten thousand was..."

"It was going to be exciting," Tuck supplied the word. "This will be better yet. But they must have gotten reinforcements, because there are more than ten thousand in the camp. Or maybe the scouts were just wrong."

"Thirty against fifteen thousand or more is better?" Gamelin choked on the words.

"Oh, yes! Once the shells start landing, they are going to start shooting. The only targets they will have will be each other. And more importantly, there is that huge empty spot in the middle of the camp."

"I don't understand either, Captain Tuck," Captain Leitnos said.

"Because, every now and then your enemy does something really stupid. One very stupid thing to do right now would be for their boss to decide the whole attack hinges on feeding his cavalry horses and wanting to make sure nothing happened to the fodder. There is that great open space in the middle of their camp."

"That's where those troops will camp," Captain Leitnos replied.

"That's what I would do. That's what you would do. But I tell you, the guy in charge down there is cavalry. Nope, the new guys sleep outside the wall and the hay goes in the center."

"And this is good?" Vosper asked.

"Oh, yes! That wall is between three and four feet tall. It would obstruct an attack, no doubt about it, because the defenders can easily see over it and more importantly, they can shoot from behind it. And if you're five thousand Mexicotál taking fire from your Zarthani friends behind the wall, you just might want to shoot back. And if we are really lucky, they will concentrate all that hay into a couple of piles that might burn."

Later, the Mexicotál starting filing into the fort. Captain Leitnos shrugged. "It looks as if you were wrong, Captain Tuck."

Tuck laughed. "And if you carried a hundred pounds of grass a couple of hundred miles, what would be the first thing you did when you got to your destination?" He paused, and then answered before the captain could. "You'd put it down."

He used his glasses again.

"Yep, that's what they are doing."

It quickly became apparent that the Mexicotál troops were indeed dropping their burdens, then going back outside the fort.

Tuck's next comment came with a harsh laugh. "I have died and gone to heaven! If I wanted to order them to position themselves so that we could do the most damage, I couldn't have done better."

"I don't understand, Tuck," Gamelin said, waving at the fort. He was more frustrated than he’d ever been before. He didn’t understand any of this. "They have their hay well-guarded and the Mexicotál have moved between us and the fort."

"There, you just said it all," Tuck told the young man. "Surely in the Trygath, you don't store all your hay in one pile?"

"Of course not, but we're not invading hundreds of miles deep into the lands of the High King. They are protecting it."

"Gamelin, they've made one great huge stack. The question is, do they have a fire department?"

"A what?" Captain Leitnos asked.

"Fire protection. I want rounds eight and nine from each tube aimed at the hay pile. One hit and it goes up."

"They will work to put it out at once," Gamelin said.

Vosper hissed something angry to Gamelin about keeping his mouth shut and asking questions instead offering stupid opinions.

"With artillery raining down on their heads?" Tuck asked with a laugh. "And more importantly, the last round. Drop that a bit more and put them on the Mexicotál force outside the walls. Again, even one or two rounds hitting them will suffice. They will be taking fire from the fort by then and the explosions will make them think the Zarthani artillery is firing on them."

"The Zarthani don't have any artillery," Captain Leitnos said.

Tuck grinned. "You know, I'll bet you something. I'll pay for the biggest party anyone in the raiding party has ever seen if I'm wrong. I'll bet with artillery falling, gunfire all around, they forget for a while what they are doing. The hay will burn, untended, until it’s too late. The Mexicotál and the Zarthani duke it out; with luck, the Mexicotál in the fort turn against the Zarthani too and one side or the other wipes out the other. End of alliance, end of war. The survivors all turn around and march home because they are all way, way out beyond their supply lines for such a war."

Captain Leitnos spat on the ground. "I'll take that bet! At least if you think the war will be over when the dust settles tomorrow."

Tuck smiled. "Well, how about the high points? Some of the hay burns, they shoot at each other and then their officers knock some sense into the survivors?"

Tanda could see the gleam in Captain Leitnos' eyes. There was no doubt in her mind he wasn't thinking about winning the bet against Tuck. He was contemplating how glorious losing it would be.

IV

Freidal came out on the roof of the headquarters building and saw the dark shape that was Xitki Quillan, standing by the parapet. It was a meager parapet, scarcely two feet tall, but it was enough to crouch and fire from behind, even if it couldn't provide any shade.

The breeze was blowing from the river towards the fort, bringing slightly lower temperatures and slightly greater humidity. Still, it was better than the smoky room downstairs, where the captain-general and his minions were plotted the downfall of Count Errock and his minions, in one quick lightning strike.

He stopped next to his father's friend, drawing a deep breath of the much fresher air.

"Well?" Xitki said, turning to him. "Have the captain-general and the archpriest of Styphon made any more stupid decisions?"

"Pile the hay in one stack, that's common sense, Styphon avers," Freidal reported. "The anointed of Styphon will walk the perimeter and will give their lives to keep it safe.

“The captain-general sulks because you sent more than half his men back towards Zarthan. He doesn’t believe you about them being needed to guard the road.”

“And the fireseed we received this evening?”

“The Mexicotál who carried it are tired. They’ve dropped their burdens outside the fireseed store. Styphon’s archpriest says his slaves will move it inside tomorrow. The fireseed is sealed against the damp.”

In the distance, between the river and the hills beyond, there was an odd sound, like a heavy boot dropping flat on a stone floor. Freidal turned towards the sound, as did Count Quillan.

A heartbeat later, the same sound came again. “What’s that?” Freidal asked the count.

A third thud, a moment later a fourth. Then there was an eerie whistle from near the horse lines to the southeast. The sound rapidly grew louder and then there was a sudden gout of flame and an explosion.

Another whistle had already sounded, another thump in the distance. Another explosion, this time in the Zarthani portion of the camp. Another explosion, then another. A whistle sounded, the noise seeming to be coming right at them.

“Great Galzar!” Xitki said, and then lunged into Freidal, knocking him first to his knees. Stunned, Freidal didn’t know what to do and let Xitki drag him from his feet.

The crash of the explosion was deafening, coming from the ground just in front of the headquarters. Freidal shook his head, and started to heave himself up to his feet, only to be dragged back down by the old count.

This time there was an explosion ten feet away, on the roof of the headquarters. Freidal blinked from the brightness of the flash, and felt stings along his right side. He grunted with pain, then, for the first time, realized he was deaf. He fought panic, trying to regain his self-control.

He looked down at his tunic top. Xitki had told him to wear a light set of chain mail in camp. It wouldn’t provide offense to either the Mexicotál or Styphon’s priests, but it would provide some protection against a blade in the back.

He pulled the tunic away from his mail. It pulled away with difficulty. There were bits of metal poking out of the chain links in an area about the size of his hand. He tried to get a grip on one of them, but it was too small and too sharp.

Xitki shook him, trying to get his attention. With a shiver, Freidal gathered his wits about him. There were more important things to worry about than a few bits of metal!

Xitki motioned to his ears and shrugged. Freidal grimaced, then for some reason, it was like something changed, and for the first time he could hear gunfire and more explosions.

He popped his head up. Flashes of explosions appeared in the camp. For the first time he realized it wasn’t nearly the shattering volley it had appeared. There were two, three, sometimes five heartbeats between explosions. Damned Hostigi! Galzar rot their corpses!

There was a scattering of rifle shots, answered by a half dozen muskets and Freidal cursed every one of them.

He turned to say something to Count Quillan when the night lit up. He’d heard tales as a boy about the journey to the infernal regions, but now he took it.

A giant hand squeezed him; the light seemed brighter than the sun at noon. The stone of the parapet roof hit him a sledgehammer blow, bouncing him two feet into the air. He saw a searing white glow in the direction of the fireseed store, and then it was blessedly cut off when he fell back.

He started to rise, but Xitki placed a hand on his back and pinned him with a strength that was surprising in a man of his age.

Freidal’s ears were ringing again, which was an odd sensation when combined with the pelting of debris falling on him that he could feel but not see or hear.

Someone threw open the door that led below and climbed to the roof. Freidal saw the man’s mouth open, as if to say something. Then a rock the size of horse smashed the man to pulp.

He saw Xitki grimace, and fearing for him, he moved closer. He saw Xitki was looking at the dead man, cursing. Ah! He’d been one of Xitki’s personal guards!

He finally felt confident to lift his head again. There were a lot of gunshots now, quite a lot. At one end of the camp, the one where the fireseed store had been, there was a large black hole, ringed with guttering fires. It was a very large, very black pit. The explosions had stopped, now replaced by a continual crackling of musketry.

He tried to see where the attack was coming from, but couldn’t.

Another man emerged from below, a huge bear of a man, Count Mountain Wall. He avoided the dead man and rushed to Quillan’s side.

“Are you hurt?” Count Mountain Wall’s voice was normally a booming baritone. Now it sounded tinny and far away.

“No. Clesti, run like the wind! Have them sound cease fire! They are killing each other!” Quillan commanded.

Mountain Wall moved well for a man of his bulk; within a very few heartbeats trumpets began to sound over the camp. The shooting died away as the sergeants began to take hold.

The two of them were standing now, staring dumb-founded at the ruin that had been wrought against the camp. There were fires everywhere, mostly small. The exception was the stack of Mexicotál horse fodder in the center of the camp, which was blazing in several places.

“Freidal, take your company, and such others as you may require. Save as much of the fodder as you can. Kill anyone, even unto the priests of Styphon, who tries to stop you. I bid you in the name of the King.”

The time-honored authority that none could fail to submit to.

Freidal went off the roof as fast as Count Mountain Wall had gone.

It took a palm width to get a handle on the main fire. Men formed a chain down to the river and were passing buckets hand to hand.

Someone tapped Freidal on the shoulder. “Captain, Count Quillan wishes you to attend a council of war.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Freidal commanded his senior lieutenant to continue to fight the fire. He then walked to where a working party was stacking what was left, carefully, in small piles. He judged it and shook his head. A third, if that, most of it wet.

He walked rapidly to the headquarters.

Two dozen men were seated around the square table. Along one side, a dozen be-feathered Mexicotál, two of the priests among them, and their Captain-General Uxmal.

Another side of the table was the Styphon’s archpriest. He had an acolyte with him and one guard. Count Quillan and the nobles were on another side and the last side had the captain-general and his coterie. 

In theory, Freidal was under the captain-general’s command. In practice, he walked to stand next to Count Quillan. “By your leave, my Lord,” he said formally, waving at the empty seat.

“Of course! Steward! A flagon of something for Captain Freidal!”

“Wine,” Freidal said, his voice hoarse. “A couple of flagons.”

Xitki ignored him, and turned to the archpriest. “Your Divinity, what of your God’s fireseed?”

“Nothing remains,” the archpriest said with apparent great sadness. “Nothing remains of the forty of the One God’s soldiers who guarded it, nothing remains of six hundred of Styphon’s Finest camped around it.”

There was an indrawn breath around the table. Nearly seven hundred men dead at a stroke?

“Freidal,” Xitki said, as Freidal did his level best to empty the jack of wine in a single swallow.

Freidal wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“What of the horse fodder?”

“We saved a third, Lord Count. Much of that is wet. I have men checking it now. We’ll feed the wet hay first.” Freidal resisted the urge to look down the table at the archpriest and finish his report. Do that and he’d be dead in a day or two.

“I have ordered enough for tomorrow to be moved closer to the horse lines.” Or, at least where the horse lines had been, when they still had horses.

“Logistos,” Xitki said, interrupting Freidal. “Horses?”

“They stampeded, Count Quillan. Captain Soreleus wanted your order before undertaking to seek them out. He is concerned about an ambush. I would say right now that there are less than a hundred horses remaining on the lines.”

“Tell one of your lieutenants to order Captain Soreleus and his hostlers out. He is to exercise due caution and will, for now, stay on this side of the river. Under no circumstances is he or any of his men to cross the river.”

The logistos whispered an order loudly into an officer’s ear, and the man was away at once.

“Lay brother Memnon,” Count Quillan said, to a man sitting apart on one end of the table. The end nearest the Mexicotál. The priests of Galzar had been proclaimed anathema along with the priests of Dralm; however they had provided the doctors and nurses of the land, including for the army. A number of lower level priests had been sworn to the king, and were here to help the army. That some of them were spies for Hostigos was a certainty.

“My Lord, I was told, there were six hundred and fifty-seven of the Anointed of Styphon. So far, two have answered muster. I know of none in the tents of the wounded. The soldiers of Zarthan numbered seven thousand one hundred and twenty. Six thousand and nine hundred forty answered muster. There are forty-two in the tents of the wounded, and sixty-seven confirmed dead, leaving seventy-one missing.

“Lord, the Mexicotál within our walls numbered two thousand seven hundred and ten. They say two thousand two hundred and fifty answered muster, there are a hundred and three in the tents of the wounded and two hundred and sixty known dead and ninety-seven missing. The Mexicotál camped outside reported the following numbers. Five thousand six hundred were present, five thousand four hundred answered muster, forty-seven are wounded, one hundred and fifty three dead.

“Lord, there were more than fifteen thousand soldiers in and around this camp before the attack. Thirteen thousand six hundred mustered after the attack. There are roughly two hundred wounded. The dead and missing number twelve hundred.”

“Of the wounded, Memnon, how many of those are gunshot?” Quillan asked.

“Nine of ten, Count Quillan.”

Captain-General Uxmal stood up. “Lord Count, my best soldiers are outside the walls. We are ready! We can counter-attack at once! The Hostigi might have struck a low blow, but my men outnumber them! Let us strike!”

“General, it is my opinion that a small raiding party, perhaps a hundred men, attacked us with light, horse-drawn guns. The High King favors those. The prize might not be worth the risk.”

“And it might well be, but if we can capture those guns the God-King would be greatly pleased! Your leave, sir! I beg you!”

“You may attack until checked. If you are checked, you will withdraw to a defensible position and wait until the rest of the army can come up at first light. Under no circumstances will you allow yourself to be drawn into a further trap!”

The man had stood, bobbed his head, turned and sprinted from the building.

“Is it wise to send untested heathen soldiers into battle, Lord Count?” the archpriest of Styphon said, in a most reasonable tone.

“They have combat packs with their fireseed intact, your grace. We will have to make a hasty collection, and then redistribute what we have to our Zarthani cavalry who will, for now, have to fight on foot. Freidal, see to that, if you please.”

“Yes, Count Quillan.” Freidal stood up to leave, but the archpriest of Styphon was out of his chair, and Quillan put a hand on Freidal’s arm to stay him.

“Lord Count! Styphon will provide more fireseed! You will see! But not enough for an attack tomorrow!”

Count Quillan extended his hand, pointing a finger at the archpriest. “If you open your mouth again, until I give you leave, I’ll have your head! Do you understand that I have to write tonight to my King and to the God-King of the Mexicotál and tell them that Styphon swallowed one man in eleven of their army tonight? That we did not, so far as anyone knows, injure a single Hostigi? That aside from those swallowed by Styphon, most of the rest were killed by Styphon’s Holy Fireseed, fired at them by their allies?”

“You can’t talk to me like this!”

“Of course I can! Styphon has single-handedly done this damage. It was you who said the fireseed did not need to be taken under cover. It was you who ordered the horse fodder piled in one place. Your guards, priest, are gone. A reasonable man, as our kings are, might just decide that Styphon has turned his face from you. A reasonable man might ask why that was true. You wouldn’t be the first of Styphon’s archpriests to turn from his God!”

The archpriest paled, sputtered and sank back to his chair.

“Now,” Xitki told the assembled officers, “you will go among your soldiers. You will tell them, that as of this moment, I will fully and rigorously enforce the Field Regulations of the Army of the King of Zarthan. A man who discharges his weapon without order–his life is forfeit. A hale man who refuses to muster–his life is forfeit. A man who strikes an officer, or is insubordinate to an officer–his life is forfeit. A man who strikes a sergeant or corporal, or is insubordinate to a sergeant or corporal shall receive three lashes if it was a corporal and five if it was a sergeant...from every sergeant or corporal then in the garrison.”

Since there were something like seventy companies in the garrison, with hundreds of sergeants and corporals, so that was a death sentence, no matter how you looked at it.

“One last thing,” Xitki said, his voice near normal. With a quick move, he snatched his sword from its scabbard and whipped it over his head, slamming it with great force into the table. Mugs of wine and beer flew, spraying their contents everywhere. It was a great mess!

“I don’t know what sort of puling babes you brought along on this expedition, but this will never happen again! Not ever! You had best talk to your captains, to your lieutenants, to your sergeants and corporals. Never again! If this happens again, I’ll kill one man in ten myself, including officers.”

“Go and find useful employ,” Xitki told them, then nodded at Freidal. “And now you are dismissed.”

One of the Mexicotál officers stood up. “Lord Count, am I supposed to just ignore how many of my men were slaughtered by yours?”

Count Quillan stared at the man. “I expect exactly that. We shot at you and you shot at us. A mistake on each of our soldiers’ part. We controlled it as quickly as possible, as did you.”

“And the fool in the saffron robe?” the officer asked, nodding at where the Styphon’s archpriest had been sitting.

“As you know, they are our allies. We can only report what has happened to our rulers. It will be up to the Ecclesia of Styphon’s House what happens to him. Now he commands himself and his much smaller personal retinue and guards. One of each, I believe.”

The Mexicotál officer bowed slightly, turned and left.


	17. The Raid -- Aftermath

I

Judy Bondi watched Tuck, laying full length across the rocks, still warm from the afternoon sun. She knew enough of his moods now to know that since he didn’t have his hat down over his eyes, he was truly concerned.

Across the river, a few fires lit the night, backlighting the low walls of the Zarthani fort. There had been no sound since Captain Leitnos and the others had moved out, two palm widths before. No sound, no trace of them.

That had to be, she thought, a good sign. They should be ready now for the moment when Captain Leitnos would fire the first round. If they’d been found out, there would be shooting, a great hullabaloo.

Tanda Havra and Tazi were a few yards off to one side, watching for anyone to approach from that direction. Judy hadn’t had any more luck seeing either of them than she’d seen of the soldiers.

Gamelin. The name echoed in the halls of her mind. She really, really wanted him to come back safe. She shouldn’t be thinking things like she’d been thinking lately. She was too young; too young at home and even too young here. But they had let her come along. Now she knew what Tuck was up to. Doing something, you focus on that, and what you have to do, no matter how painful, is bearable. Just sitting on your haunches, waiting for something to happen...Worrying about someone out there in the dark who might do right or wrong was nearly unbearable.

She was well down the road of feeling sorry for herself when she heard the sound of the first mortar shot. Only one of the first six shells fell outside of the fort and that was close to the wall.

Then the bombardment began in earnest. Mostly she’d only seen one mortar fire at a time, single, aimed shots. Now explosions rippled inside the Zarthani fort. There were a few rifle shots at first, but the number steadily ratcheted upwards.

Then the night split asunder as a huge fireball rose over the northern part of their camp. Judy literally fell over, so startled she was. She started to get up and Tuck brought her up short.

“Stay down! Protect your head!”

She put her hands over her head, thinking Tuck was being over cautious. Then, around her came soft thuds and thumps as bits and pieces landed around them.

There was a pause all around. For a second, the mortars were stilled, as was the shooting from inside the fort. Then the mortars fired their last few shots, including some on the Mexicotál camp. The last was hard; the Mexicotál had done the one thing that was effective: they doused their fires. Except there were dozens of fires in the fort, and the Mexicotál soldiers were clearly lit by the flames.

The gunfire was now a loud and continuous thunder. From the distance, bugles blared. It was then that Judy realized the mortars had stopped.

“Be alert,” Tuck said loud enough for all to hear, “we want to make sure it’s our people coming in, not some rabbits that got flushed.”

A finger width later the raiding party returned. The only casualty was Captain Leitnos, who’d fallen from the top of the wash when the magazine had exploded. He had a skinned hand and a bruise on his leg.

“Have they reacted?” the captain asked Tuck.

“Not yet, except to call a cease fire. I’m sorry to say, they responded very quickly. Maybe a hundred heartbeats between the first bugle call and the last shot.”

“Did you see their fireseed store go up?” Gamelin said, excited. “That was Vosper’s gun!”

Judy spoke up. “We noticed something of that, a little.”

Tanda Havra came out of the darkness, with Tazi in tow. “Your gun, sergeant?”

Vosper turned towards her. “Yes, Lady Tanda. That was my gun.”

“Then, I believe this is yours.” Judy wasn’t sure what Tanda dropped into Vosper’s hand. Vosper looked sad, Gamelin looked away and Captain Leitnos laughed.

“That landed on Tazi’s back. I think we will find her a whole hand taller, come morning.”

Tuck leaned close and looked and then Vosper closed his fist and vanished into the night.

When Vosper returned, his fist was empty.

“You show a strange concern for the enemies who’ve come this far to burn and kill you, your family and kin,” Tanda said, her voice bitter.

“A finger width ago that was a living, breathing man,” Vosper said, his head high. “He might have been an enemy; he was undoubtedly one of Styphon’s Anointed, their guards at the fireseed store. Still, to be ripped asunder in an instant, shattered by your god...that is evil enough.”

“I just saw three guys, traveling really fast, fetch up in the Mexicotál camp outside the walls,” Tuck advised them. “Odds are, they’re going to try to cross the river.”

“Set up the mortars!” Captain Leitnos ordered.

The men moved quickly into position. This time they weren’t concerned whether or not the enemy saw the gun flashes.

Long after the raiding party was ready, a column of torches started from the Mexicotál camp, a column of fours, heading towards the river.

“Make sure you have everything prepared to go,” Tuck told everyone. “It’s shoot and scoot. Wait until the first two ranks are on this side, and then let them have it. Aim along the column. Fire off all of your ammunition.” He laughed. “Unless you want to carry it home!”

A finger width later the mortar tubes coughed again, the interval a heartbeat between the first shots. When the aim was right, the shells rained down on the crossing. Very quickly the torches started going out and the night was dark again, much darker, because most of the fires were now out in the Zarthani camp, as well.

The soldiers tasked to do so picked up the mortars and started running. Tuck and Tanda stayed back, while the rest ran ahead. Tazi flashed Judy a grin as they moved, keeping pace easily with the soldiers. Judy just grit her teeth and told herself she could run as well as any of them.

Two palm widths later the column was running two hundred steps, then walking a hundred. When the sun came up the number was reversed. Halfway to High Sun, everyone was walking, but they were nearly halfway back to the Barrier.

There was a short break at High Sun for food and a brief rest. That evening, as night was falling, they pulled up at the base of the Barrier and took up positions to defend the trail up, even though Tuck and Tanda both said there was no one coming after them.

At first light the next day they started up and as before, there were horses and wagons waiting for them at the top.

Count Errock was there, looking at the disheveled men, marching rapidly past, after loading their equipment into the wagons.

“Did the raid go well, Captain Leitnos?” the count asked.

“My Lord, words fail me. If I were to have heard the tale told around a campfire at night, as soldiers tell such stories, I’d have laughed at the storyteller for being a huge liar.

“Count Errock, we damaged their fodder. We destroyed their fireseed store. I have no idea how many we killed, but a thousand, perhaps more.”

Gamelin spoke up. “I saw Styphon eat the Zarthani, Lord Count! A red flash, that turned white, a flash so bright, I could see it half the night! One end of their camp vanished in smoke and flame.” He nodded at Tazi. “Tazi was a mile away and the finger of one of our enemies landed on her back.”

The count nodded soberly. “The High King has long counseled extreme safety when working with fireseed. Fireseed mills may not be near towns or farms. Only those absolutely needed may work there. Fireseed stores are to be kept away from things as well. Here, our fireseed mill is buried deep in the rock of Outpost, and we keep most of our fireseed as raw materials, to be ground in the mill at our need. The fireseed store is also buried deep in the rock, far from the fireseed mill.”

The count looked at Captain Leitnos. “You hurt them, then?”

“We hurt them. Then, Lord Count, some five thousand Mexicotál set off in pursuit of us. We gave them a bloody nose and came home. Captain Tuck and Lady Tanda said they did not pursue.”

“They did not. Also, there were no patrols sent out either yesterday or today. The scouts say smoke still hovers over their fort,” Count Errock confirmed.

That evening Judy was savoring the comfort of sitting at one of the long tables in the main dining hall, sipping from a cup of well-watered wine, replete from a dinner of venison and potatoes, carrots and corn.

Gamelin appeared and she waved to him to come and sit with her.

“Was the raid what you expected?” Judy asked him.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he replied. They traded grins.

“Waiting is the hardest part of it,” Judy told him.

Gamelin smiled. “Waiting is the hardest, none will disagree!”

“It looked so easy; I know it can’t be that,” Judy told him, “but your soldiers made it look easy.”

Gamelin sighed. “When I was a boy my father told me many stories. Until I got older, I thought they were for my entertainment. One thing he told me that I will always remember. Apprentices, he said, labor long and hard at a task. They make many mistakes and complain about how difficult the task is.

“A journeyman labors less, makes fewer mistakes and talks about how well he understands the intricacies of his craft. A master now,” Gamelin beamed, “a master makes it look easy, labors hardly at all and makes light of the difficulties.

“You must not, he told me, ever forget that the master learned the ease he takes with his craft over many years and with much hard work, many mistakes, and having learned the intricacies of his craft. That is Captain Tuck. A master of his trade.”

“Killing people.”

Gamelin looked at her calmly, but he nodded. “The High King, Lady Judy, is famous in all the former kingdoms. He prefers to settle disputes peacefully. He has never, ever, betrayed an ally in any way; he’s never broken an agreement with anyone, even his worst enemies. Yet, many times men have dealt falsely with the High King. And then he kills them. It isn’t his wish to do so; it isn’t his choice. Those others choose their paths, my lady.”

He waved around them. “When they come up to the walls of Outpost, as they surely will, no matter how many times we set them back, there will be a parley. And they will call for our surrender and instead, Count Errock will call on them to surrender. The men of Zarthan are average; maybe they will keep a bargain they make with you, or perhaps not, if they think it is to their advantage to deal falsely with you. No one, no one has ever heard of Styphon’s priests bargaining in good faith. Or the priests of the Mexicotál.”

He smiled at her. Judy felt her heart go thump-thump, and a pang ran through her body.

“Tell me more how your people live, Judy. Tell me more about how they are governed.”

Judy remembered what Tuck had said. But this was Gamelin. He was her friend. He had to understand, of all the people here, he was the one who had to understand.

“Gamelin, we were brought here. Not of our free will, but by men who took us from our homes. Do you understand?”

“But not Tuck? He had no part in the taking?” he asked.

“No, not Tuck. Without Tuck...I don’t think we would be alive.”

He nodded in understanding.

“These men, Gamelin, the ones who brought us here. They are evil, do you understand?”

“That’s not hard to understand at all! If they were to be caught, the High King’s justice would be swift and sure!”

“These men are more powerful than we are. As our weapons are better than yours, so are theirs better than ours. We could not wrench people from their homes and families so; we would not take people so. They are unspeakably evil.”

He nodded again.

“If we were to go around talking about them and their evil ways, they would hear of it. Then they might very well seek us out, to shut our mouths, to keep us from talking about them. Tuck thinks they lost track of us and can’t find us. Perhaps the Zarthani attack messed up their plans too. I trust you, Gamelin. I trust you with my life, Tuck’s life, and the lives of my friends. But this isn’t something we can talk about, do you understand? If you talk about it, you could bring about our deaths, even with a harmless word to a relative or friend.”

Gamelin nodded soberly. The Trygathi were famous for their plots and intrigues. This sounded entirely too much like home. It would not be long, his father had told him several times, before the High King hung the last Trygathi who plotted against him...assuming any of the other nobles didn’t learn from the mistakes of others.

“And if we were to talk to you about how we are governed...that could lead them back to us as well. Tuck says we will talk about it, but it has to be done slowly, carefully, so that it can’t be traced back to us.”

“My father fought alongside the High King several times,” Gamelin told Judy. “He learned the value of true friendship from him. I will not ask more of you, nor will I speak of it with you or your friends. But when the time comes, you will find in me an avid listener.”

“I could end up talking your ear off,” she said with a grin.

“Well–that’s not what I’d hoped you do with my ear...”

She blushed and he laughed. They talked for long into the night about many other things.

II

Manistewa listened to Tanda’s report, shaking his head. “This man Tuck is like the High King. Utterly wasted on his home time line. We ran some high altitude probes over the Zarthani camp the morning after the attack. They’ve lost a large fraction of their cavalry mounts, although they are trying to round them up. The Zarthani road will be complete in another moon quarter or so. They’ve already moved up grain and fireseed to be the first supplies through.

“At a minimum, Tuck and his raid set them back a half moon. Maybe a little more...and that’s to get back to where they were before the raid.”

“We’re going to have a meeting with Count Errock this afternoon. Tuck says he has another plan,” Tanda told him.

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“I think so. He’s asked a number of questions about the bridges the Zarthani have built across the larger washes. There is one about thirty miles west of their fort, and another twenty miles further on. That isn’t, he contends, a likely distance for a wagon train to cover in a single day. And he’s right; there is a way station half way between the two rivers. Right now, those ‘bridges’ are unguarded. And the wagon trains don’t travel at night. I think he plans to burn the bridges.”

“That will only work once,” Manistewa said reasonably.

“Yes, but right now he’s more interested in battering their morale, before they can mount an effective attack against Outpost. He wants the Hostigi morale up and the Zarthani morale down.”

Manistewa chewed that over. “As long as he can keep pulling rabbits out of his hat, that will work. But a defeat will really suck the air out of his stature.”

“Then we’d better do what we can to make sure he doesn’t get defeated.”

“Well, that road is going to be complete in a moon quarter, and like I said, they’ve moved wagons with fireseed and horse fodder forward. Those will be the first to make the last push. And, I think, they have a clever logistos. No one saw fireseed, but those Mexicotál had to have been carrying some as well as the hay. I suspect that they are going to run the first few loads heavy on fireseed and hay, but some food and other supplies as well.”

“We’ll just play the cards the way they fall,” Tanda told him.

Later, it was just like she expected.

Tuck was standing in front of a map. “This time, we go a little further south, then much farther west. There are riverbeds here and here,” he pointed them out on the map. “Those rivers travel north to south, but they only have water in them when it rains. The Zarthani have built plank bridges to cross the sand,” he went on, explaining the lack of guards.

“So, the plan is to pull up the planks, for a couple of hundred yards at a stretch, make a pile, and put a soldier to guard the pile. Then on command, they all set their piles on fire.”

“What signal?” Manistewa asked, “Your men will be spread over a mile on the larger river, half that on the other.”

“Someone in the middle will light theirs first, then will wave a brand over their head. Everyone should be able to see the signal and would proceed from there.

“We would do that at two palm widths before dawn. It shouldn’t take long to pull up the road and stack the stuff. Once that’s done, the raiders will move here.” He put his finger down on the way station midway between the two dry rivers.

“We will put the mortars just north of the way station. If they send out a patrol or patrols, to find out what’s burning, we’ll ambush them. As soon as the ambush bites, the mortars will fire on the stock corrals. We stampede the stock, then we pull out...this time going north. We exit back towards Outpost staying west, before we cut east.”

“Risks?” Count Errock asked.

That question surprised Tanda. That was a question she was virtually certain Tuck had talked to him about before. Probably going so far as asking Count Errock to ask it.

“The biggest thing on the approach is we need to know if they’ve started mounted patrols again, particularly if those patrols are now east of the mountains. They pretty well have to know we came and went that way, the first time. It’s one reason I’ve picked the route I have. Use it a third time, and that’s where they are going to look for us to return. But obviously, if they’re already there, we’ll have to think of something else.”

“You mean withdraw?” Captain Leitnos asked. “Without fighting?”

“I mean, not even start if we see them on this side of the mountains. This only works if we can get in clean. Afterwards, they will get the idea we keep using the same route. Even a dunce could figure it out after three times. It doesn’t take someone much smarter to know that if they aren’t patrolling there and we’ve used that route twice, like as not, we’ll be back. So we won’t come back and they will be concentrating on the wrong place.

“Another problem will be if the men at the way point don’t come out. We’ve had varied reports about how many men are at these places, from a dozen to several hundred. I think that’s a function of the wagon trains passing through, but I don’t know for sure. So that’s a risk. Of course, if they don’t come after us they’ll get pounded by the mortars.

“Last but not least, if they get on our trail quickly, they can send a force at an angle to intercept us, before we get back to safety. And that’s a problem, because for this attack, we’re going to need a hundred men and a dozen tubes.”

There was considerable discussion, until finally Count Errock looked around the room.

“In the days before the High King, in a Council of War, the plan would be outlined as Captain Tuck has done now. Then, the senior officers would discuss it and offer changes, then a few more officers of middle ranks would be invited to comment.

“The High King has taught us many things, one of them is that instead of letting the senior officers start, we should start with the most junior officers present and that all officers should discuss the plan. When a junior goes first, he is unlikely to try to curry favor with his seniors, because he won’t be sure what they think. Thus, Lady Judy, you may discuss Captain Tuck’s plan first.”

Tanda saw Judy lift her chin slightly. “Count Errock, I have talked to Tazi and Tanda Havra. They say there is a trail suitable for our needs that goes along here.” She stood and walked to the map and sketched a line down the ridge of the mountains that led from the Barrier towards the Zarthani fort.

“I propose we go that way, instead of the route Captain Tuck proposed. From on top of the ridge, we would have an easier time spotting patrols, and would have several routes to choose from, should we see them. Out in the basins, there is but one way to go, north. Along the crest of the mountains we could east or west, depending on where we saw them or even backtrack and then go east or west.”

“Is the trail suitable for horses?” Tuck asked Tanda. “We were going to bring along two horses per mortar, giving us another twenty rounds per gun. Twelve tubes, twenty-four horses.”

“Yes,” Tanda told him, “the trail isn’t difficult at all. There is a good path that follows the mountain crest. There is only a little up and down. It shouldn’t be an obstacle for pack horses.”

Tanda nodded at Judy, acknowledging the good suggestion.

There were quite a few comments, once Judy opened the gates.

“A hundred men, Captain Tuck,” Captain Leitnos said. “Fifty for the mortars, what are the rest for?”

“Some men to hold horses. Five spare horse holders. Four sections of cavalry or mounted infantry to be used in ambushing the Zarthani guards at the way station.”

Captain Leitnos grunted in agreement and sat down.

“And when would you propose departing, Captain Tuck?”

“Tomorrow morning, early. Alert the men who will go this afternoon. Final preparations today, then an inspection and start tomorrow as early as possible. It’s two days to their fort; we’ll bypass to the south and swing west, staying south of their road. Three more full days until we are ready to attack. Again, we would send Tanda and Tazi ahead to scout.”

Count Errock nodded, and then looked speculatively at Captain Leitnos. “Captain, the training of additional mortar crews is not going as well as it should. You will stay here and see to that. Captain Tuck will command the raid.”

Captain Leitnos nodded. “As you command, Count.”

“Then let it be so. Lieutenant Gamelin, you will command the mortars, Sergeant Vosper as your deputy. Captain Andromoth will command the cavalry element. Four sections. Captain Andromoth, you will be under Captain Tuck’s command.”

“As you command, Count Errock.” The captain was tall and fair-haired, one of the younger captains at Outpost.

“Then alert your men. All they need to know is that they go on a raid to the south and they leave at dawn,” Count Errock told them.

The meeting quickly broke up, and Tanda walked with Tazi outside. A few moments later Tuck, Judy, Gamelin and Vosper emerged. “Tuck, do you want us to leave now?”

Tuck grinned. “Well, not now, but as soon as you can.”

“The nights are now dark, so we will not be able to travel as fast as before,” Tanda reminded him.

“It will be enough for you to get a half day in front of us. Don’t see how fast you can get there, this time.” He unfurled a map roll, and pointed out a spot to her. “We will reach here on the evening of the second day. Meet us there. We will give you a little time to get going the next day, but I want to know what you’ve seen then.”

Tanda bobbed her head. Not two palm widths later, as the sun was sinking towards the west, she and Tazi were trotting towards the now familiar path that led down the Barrier.

They stopped well back from the Barrier, to await the dawn. “Are you okay with this, sister?” Tanda asked Tazi. “Truly?”

“Yes! Sister Tanda, when the sky split asunder the other night, I wanted to dance for joy! We killed, in a single stroke, more than we lost at Mogdai! My father has a thousand Mexicotál and Zarthani servants in Regwarn! Now I will go with Lord Tuck and we will do it again! And then again! And when we are finished, the Mexicotál will fear us! They will never again come against us!”

“I hope so,” Tanda told her. “But, like Lady Judy, you must know that it will take one mistake and we will die. At some point, we will make that mistake! You and I, for instance, are too well-armed to pretend to be village women, out hunting herbs!”

“Tanda, I will sell my life as my father sold his. So one day our people will never have to fear the Mexicotál again!”

Tanda patted her friend on her shoulder, understanding her emotions.

The next morning they were up before the sun and down the Barrier before it was fully over the horizon. As before, they flew over the ground, moving swiftly.

As the sun started to sink, they were just north of where Mogdai had been. There was a small cache of food buried on a hilltop nearby which Tanda avoided in case the Mexicotál had learned of it. She and Tazi settled into a small niche in the rocks, high up on a small hill, to pass the night.

They ate a little pemmican along with a handful of parched corn. It was a palm width after full dark when something flickered in Tanda’s vision and she turned to look. To the west and a little north, a half dozen torches were visible.

She moved her foot and Tazi jerked awake, but didn’t speak. In the dark, Tazi waited to see what had alarmed Tanda.

“See how easy it is to make a mistake, sister?” Tanda’s words were like the lightest breeze.

The lead group of torches continued north, while more and more torches appeared. She concentrated on them for a short while and then sank back. Zarthani infantry!

The torches allowed them to move rapidly at night, and they were already between her and Tuck! Worse, what had obviously been either flankers or a scouting party were to the column’s east.

She contemplated the map of the local area in her head. There was no way to get past them and back to Tuck, not in the time available. There was simply no way to alert the others. The night was too dark, they would be able to travel only at a slow walk, and it would be dangerous even without enemies who hunted them.

“What can we do?” Tazi whispered.

“Sister, we hope that Lord Tuck is as good as he seems. They won’t surprise him, unless they stop soon. It’s early to be stopping if they are moving by torchlight. No, sometime later tonight, they will reach Tuck’s position. And then...”

The river of torches finally cut off. A thousand, Tanda thought. A thousand Zarthani were between the two of them and Tuck and the others. You’d better be very good, Tuck!

III

They stopped for the night and once again they had a cold camp. Gamelin sat not far from Tuck, and he spoke into the darkness. “Tuck, when I was a boy, I dreamed of doing great soldierly things. I loved it when my father took me out with him and his men. We would have cold camps like this and I felt ten feet tall! I was so very proud to be with them! I didn’t mind what I ate; it was enough to be with my father and his soldiers. To be a part of that!”

“And now, you’ve come to realize cold camps aren’t that interesting after all?” Tuck supplied.

“Let’s say, now I understand why my father was so fond of his comforts when he wasn’t in a cold camp.”

Everyone laughed at that, the common soldiers and the officers gathered around Tuck.

“Tell me, Gamelin,” Tuck said. “South of us are ridges that lead out to the basins. They are like ribs off the spine of the mountains. Suppose we were to see a strong Zarthani column out there in the basin. What should we do?”

“Two miles behind us the trail is on the other side of the spine. We should withdraw there and continue to observe,” the young lieutenant said.

“Supposing the column was a hundred men, just like us. What then?” Tuck pressed.

That was harder, Gamelin realized. They weren’t out here hunting a fight, not now. In a few more nights, surely, but not now. Still, a hundred men–with surprise, with the mortars, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. They could easily win. What then?

Gamelin was aware Judy was on the other side of Tuck. He lifted his chin. “I would say we should go back the two miles, continue on west to the Wen-rotos, there is the ford, where we crossed with you. We cross, keep on going west, then turn south at the first river.”

“The term is ‘continue the mission,’” Tuck elaborated as he nodded in agreement. “We aren’t out here to fight a hundred man patrol, even if we could win. We’re here to conduct a raid on their road. Our aim is to cut it over a distance of twenty miles. Our goal is to burn two bridges and destroy an important way station. That is our job. If we were to have to fall back, we’d be ahead of the ones we’d have seen. We would have to be careful of other patrols, because it would mean that they are patrolling now on this side of the river. But we would indeed go west.”

Gamelin felt pleased with himself. Soon, the sounds from the camp vanished as men slept. They had covered an incredible amount of ground during the day; it was simply amazing how far men could go, when motivated.

He pictured Tuck right now, leaning against a rock, his hat pulled down over his eyes. He pictured Judy on the other side of Tuck, the light blanket she favored pulled up around her chin. Gamelin had seen it himself, on the last raid. She slept with a pistol in her hand, underneath the blanket.

He imagined her smiling at him–he imagined a lot of things for the next few finger widths before he fell asleep.

He awoke around midnight, when the guards were changed. The sounds they made were soft; these men, a third of them had been in real combat now. It brought a care and attention to their duties that hadn’t been there before, but was now.

Vosper sank down next to him. “Lieutenant, one of the cavalry lieutenants who was to be officer of the watch is down with the trots. Tuck asked me to see if you would stand the man’s watch.”

“Aye, of course!” Gamelin heaved himself up. He wished he had Hellfire with him; he wouldn’t be nearly as stiff. He walked around for a finger width to loosen up.

A sergeant named Sholian appeared and said that he’d checked the guards himself and all were in place. There was, the sergeant said, nothing to report.

Gamelin nodded and walked carefully a few feet away from the camp. Here the ridge dipped down a bit, an easy path out to the basins to the east. Beneath them a deep wash came out of the mountains, turned about two thousand feet beneath him, and descended to the basins. All that was visible in starlight was a deep hole in the night.

The trail came east around a rock outcropping, before turning back west and then south, circling the drop off in front of him to the west. No one could stealthily approach from this direction, the slope in front of him was a steep, rocky hillside. A good reason to be careful.

The stars threw some light; it was enough, if you moved slowly and carefully.

He listened to the night carefully. There was nothing to hear. Every animal within a mile knew the soldiers were there and were either hiding or sneaking away.

The night was still a little warm, but it was cooling off rapidly.

He moved a few feet back to the camp and found Sergeant Sholian again. “How often are you checking the pickets?”

“Every palm width, Lieutenant.”

Gamelin nodded, even though he could barely see the other in the darkness of the night. That was as it should be. Twice Sholian vanished into the night, the third time Gamelin went with him, moving as quietly as he could.

The guards were all alert and issued a challenge as they’d been taught. Gamelin nodded. These men were every bit as good as his own men were!

He returned to his spot, a few feet from Tuck. Soon, it would be dawn. And sooner still, Captain Andromoth would be up to oversee things.

It was something he almost didn’t notice. He’d looked up at the stars and then back down to the black vastness of the ridge across from them. At first what he saw was faint, very faint. The slightest hint that the night wasn’t as dark as it should be. He turned away for a moment, and then turned back. Yes! The light wasn’t steady!

“Sergeant!” Gamelin called softly in the night.

“Sir?” Sholian replied, an obvious question.

“Turn the men to. I’ll wake Tuck.”

“Sir!”

“I’m awake,” Tuck said, coming up easily.

“To the south, there, just across the ridge. I think there’s a light beyond the ridge.”

Tuck looked. “I think there is, too!”

In fact, it was now very clear that there was light beyond the ridge.

It was, Gamelin found, quite frustrating. You could see the light, but you couldn’t see what caused the light. After about a half palm width, he turned to Tuck. “I don’t understand, Captain.”

“Imagine, Lieutenant, a large body of men, carrying torches, marching into a wash like the one in front of us. We can’t see what is on the other side of the ridge, but each torch throws off light. That’s what we’re seeing. Soon, I think.”

Gamelin glanced at the stars. Another palm width until dawn. “How many torches?”

Tuck laughed bitterly, “I’d have to say, perhaps a thousand.”

“Tanda didn’t warn us,” the words exploded from Gamelin’s throat before he could think to stop them.

“I know,” Tuck said softly.

Judy was up and awake now and she spoke. “Tuck, off to the left, about a quarter mile.”

Everyone craned to look. Fluttering light was visible, and then four men with torches appeared.

“Pass the word,” Tuck said quietly, “if any man fires without my leave, saber him dead while the shot still echoes.”

Gamelin ran to Vosper, who grinned. “I already told them pretty much the same thing!”

When Gamelin returned the four torches were moving eastwards down the crest of the other ridge. Another party had breasted the ridge to their right, but had been stymied trying to move west, by the same jut of rock that meant that the raiders would also be going west in the morning.

Then, in the middle, ranks of men appeared. They were ragged and uneven, but trying to keep to ranks of four. It didn’t take very long before a dozen ranks of four were descending the hill.

Tuck turned to Captain Andromoth. “Captain, deploy your men down the ridge to the east. Tell them to be very quiet. A man every five paces. Tell them they are not to fire, except on command and then only at men in front of them. They will try to flank us that way and we want them to take a very long time finding the end of our line.”

“Yes, Captain!” Andromoth turned and headed away, calling softly for his lieutenants and sergeants.

“Gamelin, you will deploy the mortars behind the ridge here. No more than twenty feet below the ridge crest. At first take rounds from the men, not the horses. Have six rounds ready at each gun. Keep the horses off to one side, but ready at need. I will give the order to commence firing.

“I want one of five of the horse holders actually holding horses. Put the others here in the center, two paces between the other men.”

“Yes, Captain!” Gamelin ran off to give the orders.

It was easily the proudest moment of Gamelin’s life. He’d been proud before, particularly after the first raid. This time, he was doubly so. His men went to work to site their mortars, stacking ready rounds. Horses were moved to where the guns wouldn’t startle them too much. They’d been trained, at least a little, not to panic at the sound of mortars firing. What they would be like in earshot of a dozen mortars firing was another question.

Men continued to pour over the opposite ridge, heading towards the bottom. Tuck held another hasty council of war.

“They will try to outflank us on the left. We want to keep them in the dark for as long as possible how far east our line extends. Put your best sergeant on it, Andromoth. Once I give the command for general fire, he will order your men to shoot. No one else may do that. I swear I’ll kill any man who fires without leave!”

“Yes, Captain!” Captain Andromoth said, his voice tight with stress.

“Gamelin, I want three mortars on the left under Vosper. Vosper, I want you to fire at the men in the bottom of the ravine, as they are fired on by Captain Andromoth’s soldiers. Single, aimed shots, do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain!” Vosper replied. “We keep them guessing how many guns we have, where they are and what their range is.”

“Exactly. Gamelin, your men are also to concentrate their fire only at the bottom of the ravine, once the order is passed to commence.”

“Yes, Captain Tuck!”

Across from them, the last torch passed the top of the opposite ridge. Men had begun to pool along the bottom of the wash and torches started to go out.

“I think they are taking a ridge line at a time,” Tuck told them. “Then, they take a break, and they start again. I have no idea what their plan is. Either they don’t know about the trail along the mountain crest, or they are up to something I don’t understand. It doesn’t matter: we’ll hit them here.”

Gamelin wanted to cry. Why was it that he felt a need to question Tuck’s commands?

“Lord,” Gamelin said, conceding just about all of his ground, “there are a thousand men in that ravine. We are a hundred. Shouldn’t we withdraw? Continue the mission as you said.”

“No,” Tuck replied quietly. “They will be here by dawn and there will be no way to obscure that they are close to us. We will have to withdraw. I would like to have knocked out their road, but that is still a viable plan. What we have here is another opportunity to kick them hard.”

“But Lord, they outnumber us, ten to one!” Gamelin exclaimed.

“And a moon quarter ago, they outnumbered us five hundred to one. What, you object to giving us a better chance?”

A half dozen soldiers were close enough to hear the exchange and they snickered. Gamelin flushed. “I do not doubt you, Lord Tuck! I just want to make sure we don’t do something we’ll regret.”

“As you should, Gamelin, as you should,” Tuck said, clapping Gamelin on the shoulder.

Tuck pointed downhill, where torches were still going out. “They are taking a break. They’ve probably been at this since nightfall, at least. A moon quarter ago, we knocked the stuffing out of them. What is the average soldier down there thinking right now?

“He’s thinking his officers are stupid for marching uphill and down and in the dark. They remember the raid on the main camp and are nervous about what they will find facing them. We have a chance here to really kick a hole in their morale. That’s a thousand men; they have to know that’s a big chunk of what Outpost has to face them. If we can make them pull back, why, we’ve shot Styphon’s Own Hole, if you’ll pardon my bluntness, in their morale.”

Gamelin shuddered. He’d seen Styphon’s Hell open up. “Tanda Havra and Tazi?” Gamelin asked.

“If they are where they are supposed to be, they are well south,” Tuck told him. “Note please, one important thing about our enemy: how far in front of their advance their pickets are. They are moving through the night with almost no scouting. Why? Because they think that if a Hostigi patrol sees them, they’ll turn tail and run. If they didn’t cast a broad loop of scouts, they missed Tanda and her friend. I’m willing to bet Tanda didn’t miss them.”

Gamelin breathed softly, trying to still his heart. The whole conversation had been conducted in the softest whispers. “I will be ready, Lord Tuck! You can depend on me!”

Tuck bobbed his head and put his hand on Gamelin’s sleeve. “I never imagined less. And, I promise, both Judy and I will keep our heads down. Okay?”

Gamelin’s blush was obscured by the night; he was grateful for small favors.

In the east light gathered slowly as dawn approached. Dark shadows hid the deep basins; the distant ridge tops to the east were outlined first.

“One last thing,” Tuck told Gamelin and Andromoth. “Go to your men, tell them if they fire too soon, I’ll kill them. Tell them we will win a great victory today, if they are patient and do as they are told. Stay with your men and give them direction and courage!”

Gamelin hated to leave, but he found a spot not far away from Tuck and from where he could watch what was happening below them.

He saw Tuck say something to Judy, then Tuck stretched out flat on the ground in a place where he could see down the ridge.

Judy came to Gamelin first. “Tuck will fire shortly. Your men are to hold their fire until told to commence.”

Gamelin nodded and wanted to hug her, for her warm smile. Then she was trotting along the ridge, speaking to the soldiers anchoring their right flank against the mountain. In a few heartbeats she returned, to go down the ridge towards Captain Andromoth.

Gamelin watched her go trying to harden his resolve. Vosper appeared and looked at him. “Lieutenant, you have some guns to command. That is better done from the center and the other side of the ridge.” Then Vosper was gone again.

He mentally kicked himself, but acknowledged Vosper as being right. His job wasn’t to stand where he could watch Judy; his job was to command a dozen guns in battle. He should be in the center. He moved rapidly, passing Judy as she was coming back. She flashed a smile at him and he felt much, much better.

He could still see Tuck, even if Judy was now out of sight behind the hill. He looked around. It was almost full light now. He saw Tuck let go of his rifle, reach over and hefted a large rock. Tuck hurled it forward, the rock clattering noisily down the mountainside.

Gamelin’s heart was in his throat, but no one on either side fired. With sudden insight, Gamelin knew that Tuck had thrown the rock to give the Zarthani another pause. That’s what it was all about, Gamelin realized. Tuck wanted everything to be drawn out. Waiting for the right...

Tuck’s rifled crashed, then again and again. Gamelin shook himself, trying to put everything else out of his mind.

A dozen shots were fired from below. Tuck rolled on his back and signed for the Hostigi men to his right to fire. Then, one by one, he pointed to man after man, to his left and they began to add their shots.

Two dozen men were now blazing away at the unseen enemy, now trying to scale the ridge.

Tuck turned to him, holding up one finger, and then sweeping a gesture from guns one through four.

Gamelin pumped his arm in confirmation and turned to his men. “Guns five through seven, steady! Guns one through four! Prepare to fire!”

His mental count reached fifty and he called again, “Guns one through four, hang!”

Men moved to hold the first rounds over their tubes, while the observers prepared to watch where the rounds hit.

Tuck pointed to Gamelin. “One through four! Fire!” As was now the standard practice, the first shots were two heartbeats apart to give the observers a chance to correct the aim of individual guns. Signals quickly put the guns closer to their target, and Gamelin nodded. The four guns fired again, this time in a volley. Absent orders, he ordered them to fire at will.

Tuck pointed to guns five, six, seven and eight, and then dropped his hand.

“Guns commence!” Gamelin ordered.

More shells rained down. It was, Gamelin thought, very difficult to stay where he was and not move up to see what was happening. Instead, he moved forward to Tuck.

“Should I bring the horses up?”

“Yes. Time the shooting. I want a steady fire, no more than six shells available at each gun at any one time. Be prepared to withdraw quickly on command.”

Gamelin bobbed his head and then ran to the horse holders and got them moving. The mortars were now steadily firing up and down the line. Judy smiled again at Gamelin as she passed him, having delivered the last set of firing orders.

In times gone by, an officer would have been furious to have been bypassed by a junior. That the junior was a woman would have added to the “disgrace.” Instead, Gamelin was only too happy to have his guns firing volleys now, over the hill into the Zarthani that he had yet to see.

There was a single loud whistle, then a pip pip, and rifles fired up and down the Hostigi line. The firing from below was now incredible, hundreds, a thousand rifles firing continuously.

The mortars rained death; the Hostigi soldiers on the ridge top fired downwards. He saw Judy sitting a few feet from where Tuck was, hunkered down behind a rock. Abruptly, she was up and running, going to Captain Andromoth with more orders. Andromoth nodded and called for his sergeants. Judy went next to Vosper and he nodded. Then it was Gamelin’s turn.

“Tuck wants the horses back along the trail a mile, we’re going to start withdrawing the east flank,” she told him.

He nodded and went to pass the orders. A short time later, the first of Andromoth’s men were passing through, heading back along the ridge to the west.

“How did it go?” Gamelin asked the older officer when he appeared with the last of the soldiers.

“A thing of beauty! There are no other words to describe it! Tuck fired a few shots when two men were sent up to find out what the rock was. He killed one of them! Then a dozen men rose and Tuck knocked them down with one volley from his rifle. Then a hundred rose and a volley from the horse holders knocked them back. Two hundred rose and your mortars slaughtered them!           

“I have one man dead, Gamelin! One!” Andromoth hurried on, intent on his duties.

More men and now some of the mortars were filtering north and west as well. Gamelin directed them, then Vosper passed through, and he told Vosper to organize a defense. Vosper looked pleased with himself and gave Gamelin one of Tuck’s upturned thumbs.

They took up positions behind rocks about three hundred feet higher than they’d been and more than a mile distant from where they’d spent the night. The mortars were set; the riflemen were set.

The battle resumed just before High Sun. A hundred Zarthani charged the Hostigi position, to be tossed aside like rag dolls by a volley of rifle fire. Two hundred tried it and the mortars combined with rifle fire resulted in Zarthani fleeing for all they were worth, some of them jumping off the cliff in their panic.

There was a council of war in the middle of the afternoon. “We should counter-attack!” Captain Andromoth proclaimed. “They are defeated!”

“They are defeated,” Tuck agreed. “We’ve taken three dead and a half dozen wounded. They’ve lost two men in five, and have one in five wounded. That leaves them five times as strong as we are.

“They are defeated now, but if we make a mistake, that could change. No, we’ve fired almost all of the mortar ammunition and half our rifle ammunition. We’ll return to Outpost.”

“Without completing our mission?” Captain Andromoth seemed stunned.

“Our basic mission is the defeat of the enemies of the High King. I’d say we’ve done that, today. We could not fight another battle like we fought this morning. We don’t have the mortar rounds and we don’t have the rifle rounds. No, we go back. They have no idea of what our plans were, so they are still valid.”

“And Tanda, Tuck?” Judy asked.

Tuck grinned. “She’s a big girl. I say she’ll catch up a palm width after sunset. Gamelin, your men will have the watch tonight. Tell them that if anyone shoots Tanda or Tazi by accident, what I will do to them is so unspeakable...I shudder myself at the thought.”

Gamelin started to smile, but Tuck’s smile was larger. “Really, I mean it,” Tuck added. Gamelin flinched. Tuck almost certainly did mean it!


	18. The Reverse of the Coin

I

Freidal leaned back against a rock, weary beyond words. All night they had marched over ridge after ridge! After marching half the day before!

His batman, Tiki, came and stood next to him. Freidal gestured for him to sit.

The old sergeant laughed. “If I sit, it will take a half dozen hale men to move me again, Captain! Finding two tonight might be too much to expect.”

Freidal glanced at the bulk of the ridge looming in front of them. “I didn’t hear pickets go up.”

The veteran sergeant hawked and spat into a bush. “The captain-general has had to face that marching isn’t as easy as riding. The pickets are tired, Captain. We have pickets about a hundred paces to the left, twenty paces forward and two hundred paces to the right. We’re lucky, we are. He’s decided to wait for the Mexicotál bearers to come up before we start up this next ridge. They won’t be here until shortly after daybreak. When we get to the top of this next ridge we’ll break until late this afternoon.”

“The man is stupid as well as crazy,” Freidal said, his voice audible only to himself. He looked up at Tiki. “Well, since you’re on your feet, pass the word. We won’t be the first up the ridge.”

The sergeant shrugged. “We’ll probably not get started until well after it gets light.”

“Not until someone has gone up the ridge first,” Freidal repeated.

The sergeant’s teeth flashed in the near-blackness as he grinned. “Yes, Captain!” Not many had a commander who did not fear being called a coward. And going up a ridge that hadn’t been scouted was an invitation to disaster.

Freidal allowed himself a mouthful of water and no more. He closed his eyes, imagining himself in command of this sorry mess. Politics! There were a lot of things he didn’t like about his position, but if he were in command, a lot of things would change in an instant!

The sergeant kicked his boot much later. “The captain-general is sending pickets up the ridge,” the sergeant laughed bitterly. “Two men.”

If there was a Hostigi ambush ahead of them, which was what the pickets were supposed to learn, two men would reach the top of the ridge and then vanish, never to be seen again. After a bit, even the captain-general would realize that they were in trouble, trapped between two ridge lines, with very steep slopes to climb in both directions and more than a mile between them and the questionable safety of the basin to the east.

What would Freidal do if this was an ambush?

“I personally will give the order to move out,” Freidal commanded, unconcerned if anyone thought of him as a coward. “Pass the word again.”

The sergeant had moved off about twenty feet when a rock clattered down the hillside in front of them. The few night sounds vanished as everyone found something solid to hide behind.

Freidal looked around cautiously. It was steadily growing lighter. Abruptly, it seemed, there was enough light to see the two sweating pickets toiling up the ridge.

The sound, when it came, was still a shock. There was no puff of fireseed smoke, just one of the pickets standing upright, then sprawling backwards. An instant later the crash of the rifle shot echoed through the canyon.

The other picket vanished and miracle of miracles, no one fired. Freidal grimaced. Not that Xitki Quillan was going to be pleased when he heard about this!

A dozen men of the picket force rose, their faces grim, led by their captain and they charged uphill. Freidal couldn’t fault the man’s courage or reaction. That’s what the pickets were there for. If there had been more than a single shot, a dozen men would have been folly. For one...a reasonable response. Regardless of anything else, that single shot alone had held up the column a palm width and perhaps twice that.

This time Freidal could see the flashes from the rifles, firing. A dozen shots crashed out, killing four or five, wounding a few more and sending the rest to cover.

Colonel Trium, who commanded the vanguard, yelled a command and a hundred men fired a volley uphill. A few heartbeats later, long enough to reload, they yelled and charged up the hill.

Freidal, though, once again felt fear. Not fear for himself, but fear of the future. He’d seen the flashes of the shots, but there was no smoke! One man, one man in all of recorded history shot smokeless fireseed! The High King! And there was just one gun firing at them from the top of the ridge! What else was up there?

If the High King was here, then everything was explained: the loss rate among the patrols, his own personal defeat and the catastrophe at the fort. And if it was true, the captain-general had just delivered them into a trap that would see them all dead before sunset.

“Sergeant!” Freidal called loudly, “We will advance!” He stood, drawing his saber and screamed, “Charge!” He pointed the saber up the hill and started forward himself.

There was a ripple of rifle fire from the ridge. Twenty men were shooting Hostigos standard fireseed at them. Clouds of dirty white smoke began to billow over the ridge top.

There were billows at the bottom of the ridge as well, but not enough yet for effective cover.

More shots from on high, men were dropping rapidly. Colonel Trium went down and with his fall, the heart ran out of his soldiers. Freidal’s twenty joined them, firing uphill, trying to find cover while they did.

Someone to Freidal’s right, someone with a lot of men, launched them up the hill. It had been bad before, now it turned to hell.

Some of the Hostigi explosive artillery shells exploded in the bed of the wash, then more and more. The shells in the confines of the fort had been bad; in the narrow canyon, with rocks to provide more shrapnel, you had to hug the ground and not move. Freidal had no idea how many Hostigi were on the ridge, but it was clear there was more than enough to stop the second attack. The damn Hostigi guns slaughtered a lot of good men!

A runner came pounding up, sprawling into the rocks next to Freidal. “Captain! Captain-General Delos has called an officer’s call! There!” The man pointed at a cluster of rocks, next to some small trees several hundred yards away.

If the captain-general had been handy, Freidal would have punched the stupid bastard in the face with his fist. An officer’s call in the middle of an ambush? There were two choices to respond to an ambush! Attack or flee! Surely the man could pick one of the two!

Flight was stupid, so the whole damn force should be up, rushing the ridge!

Still, with a direct order, there was nothing he could do. He moved carefully, keeping to cover. He was about a hundred yards short of his destination when the Hostigi noticed that a lot of plumed officers were headed for the same place.

A dozen explosive artillery shells landed in roughly the right spot and officers and the captain-general’s hangers-on were running, jumping over rocks and generally making fools of themselves.

He himself turned and headed for the largest knot of soldiers he could see. There was a colonel in the middle, directing sections to move forward, some firing and some moving.

“Colonel! I’m assuming command!”

Bullets whined off rocks near them.

The colonel turned to him and shook Freidal. “You stupid fool! Why do you think my helmet’s gone?”

Freidal looked uphill and for the first time, saw their enemy. An officer was pointing at him! Him! And men were firing. Bullets whined and ricocheted all around him.

Realizing the truth, Freidal leaped for cover.

Something slapped his helmet, hard. He stumbled to one knee, and then fell forward into a crack between two rocks.

When Freidal awoke, it was night. The heat of the day had come and gone; he was parched. He was once again leaning up against a rock. He could tell he was bareheaded. The wind moaned over the wash they were in, an eerie, unsettling sound.

He turned his head and looked around. There was no wind, just the moans of dozens, hundreds of the wounded. He raised his hand to his scalp. His head ached, there was a knob on his forehead, crusted with blood.

Tiki appeared with a water skin. “Captain, sip this. A little, sir. Take just a little at first.”

Freidal controlled his thirst and took a small sip. After a dozen heartbeats, he took another, slightly larger. He carefully worked his throat, and then looked the sergeant in the eye.

“What happened?”

“Right after you were wounded, the fire from the ridge slackened. The captain-general waited a palm width, then charged up the ridge with most of the survivors, maybe six hundred men. The Hostigi had abandoned their positions, and had formed another ambush, about a mile west.”

The sergeant looked at Freidal bleakly. “Scouts spotted the ambush right away. But instead of waiting, the captain-general had everyone run the mile and attack again. He didn’t survive. In fact, none of his officers survived. They shoot at officer plumes. Anyone, in fact, wearing a helmet.”

“Where’s my helmet?” Freidal said, trying to keep his churning stomach from making him throw up.

The sergeant handed it to Freidal. There was a long splash of lead, diagonally over the eyeholes. Freidal threw the helmet away as hard as he could, listening to it clatter in the night.

“I hope the Hostigi can’t hear that!” Freidal said bitterly.

“No. After the second battle, they moved north. I sent a half dozen men to follow them.” The sergeant hawked and spat again. “They’re overdue. A stupid waste of men.”

“What do we have?”

“A lot of men ran. No senior officers survived. Two other captains live, but one won’t last the night. The other lost a leg. A half dozen lieutenants are well enough. Now that you’re awake, you command.”

“I meant, how many men?” Freidal demanded, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Three hundred and ninety wounded. Two hundred and ten are well enough to still hold their weapons. The one good piece of news is that the Mexicotál carrying our extra food and ammunition dropped their loads and ran like jackrabbits. I have men recovering all of that.”

“Morale?” Freidal was reluctant to ask.

“They’re stunned, Captain. In shock. You shake them, you tell them what you want them to do and they go do it. Then they stop. You have to shake them again to get them to do the next task. Mostly, it’s senior sergeants doing the shaking.”

Freidal remembered his sixteenth birthday well. As usual, he’d been clamoring for command of troops. Xitki had smiled and led him towards Clesti, Count Mountain Wall’s, main town.

The two of them had followed a path along a mountainside; Freidal had thought he knew where they were, but he’d been wrong. A bullet sang off a rock in front of them and Quillan had pulled him into a hole in the rocks. For half of a day bullets had flown at them. There was no way to move, no place to go. That had been bad. Then the cannon started firing, a little before sundown. All night long cannon balls had smashed into the hillside around them.

There had been no sleep, only a steady, omnipresent fear of what was going to happen next. A finger width before dawn, the guns stopped.

Freidal had stared at Quillan in the same stupor that was being described to him now. It had been too much; it had been too much to bear. Xitki, who’d never been further than Freidal’s elbow, had pushed and prodded Freidal up, along the trail, and into Count Mountain Wall’s citadel. It had been a lesson, a demonstration, that he hadn’t yet learned all that he should.

It took Freidal two days of nearly continuous sleep to recover his wits. For several moons a loud noise would send him sprawling for cover. And two moons later, he’d gotten his first troop command. Bittersweet was the term for that. Here was only bitterness; there was nothing sweet about it.

“Did you message Count Quillan?”

“Yes, sir. Four men in a party, every palm width since we pulled back. Seven parties now, sir.”

Freidal started to struggle to get up, but the sergeant gruffly told him to be still. “Captain, you look like baby plop. Rest, sir. There is nothing that needs doing now, not until daylight. If the Hostigi come again, we’ll wake you, I promise. Rest. Let one of the priests see to your wounds. We’ll find your baggage before morning and get you cleaned up.”

Freidal didn’t have the energy to struggle. He sank back, nearly exhausted. He reached up and gripped the sergeant’s arm. “Are there any rumors of the High King being on the field today?”

The sergeant shook his head, obviously mystified. “The High King’s safely back in Hostigos, Captain. There were a dozen reports of that, before the war started.”

Freidal debated mentioning what he’d seen, but decided not to. He took a full swallow of water and then was handed some jerky. He smiled slightly as he chewed the salty meat. He was going to be thirsty again in no time! Was any of this wise?

II

Tanda and Tazi listened to the rifle and mortar fire all morning. When the sun was halfway to the zenith they carefully moved east, then north, staying in folds of the ground, going slowly and making no dust.

When the shooting started again just past High Sun, Tanda stopped, listening carefully.

She turned to Tazi. “You can hear the difference between the Hostigi rifles and the Zarthani rifles, yes?”

Tazi nodded and added her own observations. “Lord Tuck and his men are still shooting together. The Zarthani aren’t. Fewer and fewer of them are shooting at all.”

“Yes. The Zarthani have been defeated again. Now the question is, how badly? If they fragment, it will be too unsafe to travel for several days.”

“How could so few,” Tazi asked reasonably, “defeat so many?”

“Because Tuck fixes on a clear goal. He is willing to change it, as he has to, but he fixes his mind on his goal, then he thinks long and hard about what he has to do to achieve his goal. I think if you are not focused on defeating Tuck, you can’t. Even I, when I fought him. I wanted to escape. I saw him and wanted to kill him and then escape. He simply wanted to live. It made the difference.”

Tanda nodded to the trail ahead. “We must move faster. They will go until they cannot see further. We must too.”

They ran as fast as they could. Tazi was pleased that she could keep up with Tanda, even if it was all she could do to do so. Just before the light started to fail, they turned up a ridge and started climbing. Earlier, it hadn’t been so bad, but not now; Tazi’s calves screamed with fatigue.

Finally Tanda stopped and looked at her. “Well, sister, some day you will have proud, strong daughters! And you will tell them of this day, the day you ran thirty miles in an afternoon! Then climbed the mountain!”

Tazi smiled.

Tanda laughed, “Then, your daughters will go out and beat up every boy in the village!”

Tazi’s breathing returned to normal and at once Tanda was moving again. It was, Tazi thought, clear. Tanda had stopped because Tazi needed the stop, not Tanda.

It was a dark night, clouds having come up in the last minutes before dark. They moved slowly, until finally Tanda put her hand on Tazi’s shoulder. Tazi stopped obediently.

“Soldier of the High King! It is I, Tanda Havra!” Tanda said into the night.

“Password?” a gruff voice came from the dark. Rather close, Tazi thought.

“Rylla,” Tanda replied.

“Pass, friend,” then the voice spoke a little louder. “Sergeant of the guard, post six!”

“Two friends,” Tanda and Tazi chorused together.

A candle appeared in front of them, carried by the old sergeant, Vosper. “Tanda, Tazi! It is well!”

“Is it?” Tanda replied.

“Four dead, six wounded. Well enough.”

“Tuck?”

“Safe,” Tuck said from the darkness. “I’m glad you turned around.”

“We saw them in the early evening, yesterday,” Tanda told him. “There was no way to get around them in the dark. This morning, at first light, we heard the shooting.”

Tuck explained, “The good news is that we executed a successful meeting engagement. We defeated the initial rush, disengaged, fought them at High Sun and disengaged again. They started out ten times our number. They probably still out number us five to one.”

“However,” Vosper said seriously, “their will to fight has evaporated.”

“And that’s the bad news,” Tuck told him. “Right now those men are in shock. Last night at this time they were raw recruits–but now they are blooded veterans. It will be a dozen times harder the next time. And at some point, the idiots in command will all be dead and someone who knows what he’s doing will take over.”

“It was a glorious victory,” Gamelin said, coming out of the darkness, Judy Bondi next to him.

“It was,” Tuck told him. “All I’m saying is that next time it will be harder.”

Tuck smiled at Tanda and she smiled back. “And the plan now?” Tanda asked.

“We shot off most of our mortar rounds, and more than half the rifle ammunition. We have to go back.”

Tuck walked closer to Tanda, reached out and took her hand. “Come, tell us what you saw.”

Much later, Tanda tossed and turned in her blanket, hating herself. He was a nice man! She was too close! She should tell Manistewa to pull her out. If she stayed longer she was going to mess up, she was sure of it.

III

Countess Linnea swept into the room where Elspeth was talking with Major Glaxos about supplies for the raiding parties. The two looked up from their notes and the major stood. “My Lady Countess,” the major spoke in greeting.

“I’ve come to borrow your assistant for a palm width, Major.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Elspeth stood and the countess beckoned for Elspeth to follow her. In a finger width they were ensconced in a room with a splendid view of the valley that Outpost was in.

Linnea poured some watered wine for Elspeth and herself. Elspeth sat silent, watching the older woman.

She gestured to Elspeth to sip and Elspeth took a small amount. Linnea laughed. “You are quiet, waiting for me to tell you why I wanted to talk to you. My husband complimented Lady Judy some days ago. He despairs of teaching many of the younger officers the words ‘I don’t know’ and even more difficult: ‘I’m not sure.’

“You seemed to have mastered a different strategy. Being silent.”

Elspeth shrugged. “I don’t speak that well, yet.”

Linnea nodded. “The little alphabet tune–that was genius.”

“Tuck thought of it and Lydia wrote it. I just learned it so I could assist Major Glaxos.”

Linnea pushed a bowl of fruit towards Elsepth. “You and my husband have much in common.”

“He’s pregnant?” Elspeth retorted angrily. She said something under her breath. “Sorry, Countess, I meant no disrespect.”

Linnea shook her head. “Put it out of your head! My brother and I had to run for our lives, ahead of Styphon’s Grand Host. We ran through the woods for moons, through wind and rain and snow. We finally reached Thagnor City, where Great King Kalvan had set up. My brother is a military engineer; he built Outpost. First, he was one of the architects of the defeat of the False God, Styphon.”

She grinned broadly. “He showed Kalvan how to build bridges in a few days that had taken moons and moons before. Kalvan’s army ran rings around the armies of Styphon Bedwetter.”

“You talk of your brother, not your husband, Lady Linnea,” Elspeth said.

“Yes. When I met my husband, he was a commoner, raised up to be a captain-general by Great King Kalvan. He was taciturn, and the truth be known, ashamed of his upbringing. The High King values a man for his deeds, not his birth. My husband was tongue-tied at first in my presence.

“But the High King promised my brother and Errock counties if they could build Outpost and make it work. They did. I understand from Captain Tuck that you are all of common birth. I want to tell you that neither my husband nor I would dream of thinking less of you for that.

“If you wish to hear of the joys of motherhood, I have two wonderful children.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. The man who put this baby into me beat me bloody senseless first. I’ve carried a knife ever since,” Elspeth told her.

“Then we won’t talk of it. I have news of Tuck and Lady Judy.”

“From the way you’ve been off-subject, I guess they have succeeded.”

Linnea laughed. “You are astute–although they never attacked their target.”

“I haven’t known Tuck for very long, but he seems to be very good at the things he does.”

“He is good. He met ten times his number of enemies and beat them badly. He didn’t have enough ammunition to fight on, so he is withdrawing. They’ll be back tomorrow. Know this, Elspeth.

“My husband fought the High King in one battle. My husband was easily defeated. Men, Elspeth, no matter how fine, have weaknesses. My husband lost that once and it eats at him; he never wants to lose another battle. Never, Elspeth, has my husband beaten ten times his number; never has the High King won at that kind of odds either.”

“Tuck and Judy are okay?” Elspeth asked.

Linnea cocked her head to one side. “Is it Judy or Judibondi?”

“Where we are from a person has a personal name and a family name. Judy is her name, Bondi is her father’s family name. Elspeth is my name, and Brenner is my father’s family.”

“You understand that we have only ‘personal’ names?”

“Yes, Countess. It is just that our custom is different.”

Linnea chuckled. “That must be nice. My father was a baron and unless I’m talking to someone who knows they think I am the wife of a commoner.”

Linnea stared at Elspeth for a long moment. “I’ve heard that you have no nobles where you are from.”

“Not in our kingdom, Countess. But we certainly have some who think they are! Other kingdoms, Countess, do have nobles, but even there they are not as important as they once were.”

Elspeth bit her lip. “Countess, Tuck has asked us not to talk about where we are from. Those who brought us here are not very good men; he doesn’t want to give any unnecessary offense to them.”

Linnea nodded. “I understand; I will talk no further about it. I hesitate to give you advice, you don’t know me.”

“Lady Linnea, I have to tell you, I have a bad attitude about people who try to tell me what to do.”

“And you think I have what? I was betrothed three times by my father! Two of those men ran away when they learned my father supported Kalvan, and the last got himself killed in battle before I ever met him. I finally married a commoner! What could be worse? I had a good friend who advised me to think about what I wanted with my life!”

She looked at Elspeth. “As you, there are things I would prefer not to discuss. Errock was the best I could hope for.”

She smiled brightly. “If you wish any advice about childbirth, Elspeth, you need but ask.”

“I have a knife that I’ll use on the first midwife who comes at me with dirty hands!”

Linnea laughed lightly. “I’ll loan you a pistol. They pay far more attention to you when you aim a pistol at their heads!”

She turned serious. “Before the High King, most soldiers died of disease or minor wounds. Half! Half of women died in childbirth, and half of those who lived lost the child! Since the High King has come, disease is still a problem for soldiers–but a fraction of what it was. And 99 of 100 women survive childbirth, and nine of ten of the babes!

“There is a secret cult among women, where they worship the High King as a god. When the babe is born, you can join.”

Elspeth contemplated that for a short time. “Lady Countess, I am honored.”

“Call me Linnea.”

IV

Late the next evening they were again riding the wagons towards Outpost. Judy was feeling good, hardly tired at all. Again, Count Errock was there with his staff, Becky, Lydia and Elspeth as well. She smiled at her friends.

More explanations, this time as they rode. It was nearly midnight when Judy stumbled into her room in the citadel and collapsed across her bed. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she’d spent more nights sleeping on the ground since they’d arrived than she had in all the rest of her life.

Elspeth came early to wake her and Judy went and took a sponge bath from a basin of warm water someone had brought. How many years ago had it been since Tuck explained how things worked? At home hot water and all of the amenities were taken for granted, even though, exactly like here, people had worked to provide them for her. At home, those people were faceless; not so here.

She thanked the old woman who brought her towels, then she thanked the woman, not much younger than she was, who laid out clean clothes for her.

Breakfast was with her friends. They were animated, talking about what they’d been doing; trying, Judy realized at last, not to ask her about the battle.

Judy finally laughed. “It’s not what you think,” she told them.

They all looked at her, not understanding. “The battle came in two parts. First, we ambushed them in a wash. I ran messages back and forth, but behind the ridge. Seriously, Tuck told me if he saw me taking a peek over the ridge he’d plant his boot in my backside. I never saw them, I swear.

“Then, we retreated about a mile and set another ambush. I did get to see them coming, but after that, I had to help hold horses so another man could get into the fight. All of the horse holders, the second time, were wounded, except for me.”

“They won’t let you get in the fight?” Elspeth asked.

“No. But I think Tuck is right. There were men killed, but it was usually because they made a mistake. In the first part of the battle, a man about twenty feet from me jumped to his feet, aiming at someone and fired. His sergeant was screaming at him to get down. It was pretty awful–every last one of the Zarthani must have been shooting at him. He was hit a dozen times in less than a second.”

She looked at them. “If he had stayed down, he wouldn’t have been shot. But he forgot or got excited. Tuck’s right, you have to learn all that stuff. It’s not safe, but if you’re careful, it’s as safe as it’s going to get.”

“Count Errock’s wife has been talking to me about birthing here,” Elspeth said. “She’s determinedly optimistic, after all, she’s had two kids. The fact is, until the High King introduced the idea of a midwife washing her hands, half the time you died. Now, it’s down to one in twenty. I am so looking forward to having this baby.”

Judy looked at her. “Would you have it, if you had a choice?”

“What choice?” Elspeth said bitterly. Judy kicked herself. “No, I don’t think so. It’s seems like from beginning to end this has been out of my hands. My choice hasn’t counted for anything. At least here I’ll be awake so I can scream at the first midwife that comes at me with dirty fingernails!”

Judy winced. Everyone said childbirth was painful. Yet another argument for not getting much friendlier with Gamelin. They had hugged yesterday, after the battle. It was a quick thing, hastily done. She didn’t know what expression she’d had on her face, but she could see the concern and affection on his face.

Elspeth changed the subject. “The logistos is a little upset with Tuck. He’s fired off about a tenth of the mortar ammunition, between training and the two fights. They had not intended to make any here, but now they are working on it, night and day.”

“Then it should be okay,” Judy said.

Elspeth sniffed derisively. “You have no idea. Yesterday, four master smiths spent the day making drawings of a mortar shell casing. A moon quarter, they say, before they can duplicate it. A full moon, they say, before they have it down pat, and making shells regularly. They are concerned about the little gizmos that make the shells explode when they hit the ground. Fortunately, they have about two thousand extra of those, because they haven’t a clue how to make even one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Plus, the stuff that makes the mortar round fly isn’t regular fireseed, either. You can use regular fireseed, but the gun will only shoot about two-thirds as far and there’s a serious problem with the fireseed fouling the tube.

“If they save half the ammunition to defend Outpost, that leaves enough for just three or four more fights for Tuck. And from what everyone seems to say, they expect a hundred fights, not three or four.”

Judy nodded. How do you learn all of this? There must be a million separate things Tuck had to be keeping track of! And what about Count Errock? Ten million? How many different things did the High King have to keep track of? It was dizzying and dismaying.

There was another council of war late the next morning.

Tuck stood up in front of everyone and reported on the action, dryly speaking the bare bone facts of what had happened.

It seemed so very different from the fear and excitement that had filled Judy at the time. She’d watched Tuck; she watched Gamelin and Sergeant Vosper. They had been unfailingly calm, speaking in confident tones, crisp and clear in their orders.

Count Errock listened gravely then turned to the others around the table. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A man down the table leaned forward, someone Judy didn’t recognize.

“Why, Captain Tuck, didn’t you turn and reengage, once you saw you had defeated the Zarthani? I think another push would have routed them.”

Tuck shrugged. “It is unlikely that we killed or wounded more than half of them, Captain. And what if we had attacked and routed them? We’d have had to deal with hundreds of Zarthani wounded. There was no way we could take them prisoner; we would have had to let them go again, or slaughter them as they lay. I have no stomach for the slaughter of the helpless, Captain.”

One of the priests, wearing a wolf’s head cape, spoke up. “Galzar does not hold with the slaughter of those who can not defend themselves. When a man yields, Oath to Galzar, it becomes the duty of the captain who has taken him prisoner to safeguard him, to succor his wounds.”

“Captain Helmoth,” Count Errock said, speaking to the officer who’d asked the question, “Captain Tuck presented me a plan. We attack the Zarthani where they are weak, we fight until they can return the fight effectively, and then we break off. I agreed to this in the name of the High King.

“I will be sending a dispatch to the High King later today, with news of this battle, praising Captain Tuck for his courage and initiative in this battle. The High King respects the Gods, as he respects fighting men. If I’d sent him word of a massacre of wounded prisoners, I would fear for my head.”

The captain bowed slightly, “Lord Count, I apologize. I was just wondering why he did not pursue his defeated enemy.”

“Because they weren’t that defeated,” Count Errock said. “As Captain Tuck said, his company was still outnumbered four or five to one. Several times the High King has commanded in battles where it looked like the day was going against him. I know, I’ve been in one of them, opposing him.

“He watched, he waited, and when his enemies made a mistake–when I made a mistake–he was ready. Captain Tuck did not want to meet a captain who’d learned from the mistakes of others. And I do not fault him for it. Now, the question is, what next?”

Tuck was on his feet. “I think we should use the same basic plan again. We never got close to our objectives, there is no way the Zarthani could know of them. Their road should be complete now and supplies flowing. That must stop. I think, though, this time we should try a different route, perhaps west, then south, as we talked about before, as our egress route.”

There followed a general discussion of the plan. Judy heard Captain Helmoth ask question after question. It seemed to her he was sarcastic, impugning Tuck’s courage and abilities, as well as the plan. Throughout the morning and early afternoon, Tuck stayed unflappable, replying just as calmly and firmly as when he’d been on the battlefield.

She was a little surprised that it was Count Errock who ran out of patience with Captain Helmoth first. “Captain Helmoth, do you have any confidence in this plan?”

The captain shrugged and shook his head. “Lord Count, there are too many parts to it. It is complicated; it requires exquisite timing and flawless execution to succeed. If and when it succeeds, our soldiers would be deep within Zarthani controlled territory, easy to ambush.”

“And the men you have been training?” the count inquired in a mild voice.

“They are brave, Count, but all of us are inexperienced with this new weapon. They lack confidence in the new weapon.”

Count Errock stared at the captain for a moment, then turned to Tuck. “Captain Tuck, you are tired, your men are tired. It had been my intention to allow you to rest for a moon quarter before you saw action again. Would you be up to helping to evaluate Captain Helmoth’s company’s training?”

“Of course, Count Errock. As long as I can get someone else to do the rowing across the lake.”

There were chuckles around the table.

“Take Lieutenant Gamelin, Lady Judy and a few sergeants. Let me know tomorrow, what you find.”

“Yes, Lord Count,” Tuck said, bobbing his head.

“Captain Helmoth, you will return to your cavalry duties.”

There was a stir in the room that Judy didn’t understand.

The captain bounced to his feet like a jack-in-the-box puppet. “Am I being relieved? Why?”

“You are being returned to your company, Captain, where your men hold you in confidence. Confidence, Captain, flows downhill from a leader to his men. I asked you to do a very hard, a very difficult task; there is no shame in not being able to deal with it. Your experience is with cavalry: hard charges, dealing shocks to our enemies. Mortars are artillery, requiring careful use and new and innovative tactics, completely unlike those the cavalry uses.”

There was a silence and coldness in the room that Judy still didn’t understand. Tuck was staring straight ahead, with no expression on his face. Gamelin was looking fixedly at his hands, folded on the table, never once looking up. A lot of people were looking down. Not a single person was looking at Captain Helmoth except Judy and Count Errock.

Count Errock rose. “We have things we need to be doing. Those dealing with the next mortar attack will meet here tomorrow, a palm width past High Sun.”

He strode away, while the rest of them waited. When he was gone, most of the others prepared to leave, including Elspeth and her friends. Judy waved and Elspeth stuck out her tongue. Evidently, waving to your friends wasn’t done, at least not when you were on duty!

Sergeant Vosper appeared at her side. “Lady Judy, Captain Tuck asks that you prepare for a few more days camping.” He grinned at her and she bobbed her head.

“Sergeant,” and Vosper looked at Judy when she spoke. “What happened here just now?”

He looked around. The council chamber was now empty, except for them. “The count said it, Lady Judy. Confidence flows from those who command to the men under them. I don’t know if Captain Helmoth wanted to be relieved or was ignorant of what he was saying. When he told Count Errock his men lacked confidence, he was saying they lacked confidence in him. So the count sent him back to where he’d been.”

There was so much to think about, Judy thought! She shook her head and all but ran to her rooms to get ready for her new mission.


	19. Preparing to March South

I

Four of them were rowed across the lake and for the rest of the afternoon Judy followed behind Tuck and Gamelin, taking notes. The new company fired a couple of mortar rounds and while they weren’t nearly as good as Tuck’s crews, they were still hitting close, and with a little advice from Tuck and Gamelin, improved perceptibly before it started to get dark.

Tanda Havra came out, Tazi at her side, just as the last light gleamed in the western sky. The big surprise was that Count Errock and Tanda’s uncle were with them.

They ate field rations around the campfire; the awful corn porridge was no longer quite so awful.

“Trader Manistewa has helped us to keep in touch with the village Ruthani. They have a redoubt in the mountains to the south,” Count Errock told them as they sat in front of the flickering fire. “We are going to send them a shipment of three hundred rifles, fireseed and shot and other shooting supplies. It will be a horse caravan, call it a hundred and twenty pack animals.”

He turned to Gamelin. “You and Sergeant Vosper, Lieutenant, will escort them. Your company will go with you. I realize this isn’t the rest I promised. Your mission is not to bring the enemy to battle. Your duty is to safely deliver the weapons and return the horses. Two of Manistewa’s scouts will go with you, plus one of his traders.”

Judy saw the bright light in Gamelin’s eyes; she knew it was a mission he was eager to undertake. There was just about no way she could think of to go with him–and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea anyway.

“And these men, Captain Tuck?”

“Lord Count, they are willing enough. Another full day of training and then they will be ready.”

“Then prepare yourself to depart in a day and half. You will march west and then south, and attack the Zarthani road as discussed. Lady Judy may attend you as before, Tanda Havra and her friend may scout, if that is their wish.”

“It is our wish,” Tanda said without hesitation. “I haven’t been over much of that ground before; I like to see new places.”

“Just be careful, niece,” Manistewa said.

Judy studied Tanda’s uncle for a moment. He was tall and dark, very much like an American Indian. His hair was jet black, running down the back of his head in a braided ponytail as long as any of those Judy or her friends sported.

He looked cold and austere, unsmiling, and dour. Tuck, Judy thought, was not going to have any trouble beating him for the affections of Tanda Havra!

They slept as they had so many times, on the ground. The season was steadily warming and it was something Judy had no trouble with.

Nor did she have trouble rising in the first pale light of dawn and getting ready for the coming day. They were underway, marching towards the mortar firing range, when, behind them, one of the cannon from Outpost fired.

The report echoed off the hills, causing everyone to crane and look to see what it was about. There was a signal light flashing high on the citadel.

Tuck had craned to look, and he shook his head. “Sergeant! Halt the column! Standby for further orders!”

He turned to Judy. “Officers report immediately,” he told her. “A bit of sage wisdom, that Mac told me: an order like this usually means it’s hit the fan.”

Judy didn’t need to ask what had hit the fan.

They rode quickly down to the docks, and the half dozen of them were rowed rapidly out to Outpost.

They were the last to arrive in the council chamber.

It was Count Errock who gave them the news. “At first light, scouts near the Zarthani fort saw a column of troops marching northwards. At first, they thought it was a large raiding party, but they report that the Zarthani have all but emptied their fort. Perhaps fifteen thousand men are marching towards us, even as we speak.

“The scouts also report very strong pickets and scouting parties.”

The count looked around the room. “They are coming, and coming here. Have no doubt about it. We have stung them and they have reacted by launching their attack.”

He pointed at Tuck. “What do you think, Captain Tuck?”

“I think you are right. However, there is another thing to consider.”

Count Errock laughed. “Logistics.”

“Logistics!” Tuck agreed with him.

“I believe the Zarthani plan was to build up their logistics at this fort, then push a road in the next moon or so, north. There is only one wagon road up the Barrier.

“Captain Helmoth, you will depart this instant. Take your company to reinforce Lieutenant Sarui’s patrol at the wagon road. You will deny the enemy the wagon road. Prepare to destroy it with fireseed, if the Zarthani even look like they might start up it. We don’t need a wagon road and they do.”

“Yes, Count Errock!” the captain said, jumping up and dashing from the room.

“I think at this point we have too little information to plan attacks on their logistics, Captain Tuck. I want you and Lady Judy, Tanda Havra and Manistewa to work here, coordinating the intelligence the scouts report.”

Judy looked around the room; Gamelin wasn’t there. “And Lieutenant Gamelin’s mission?” Judy asked, heedless. Knowing she was stating something personal, for all to see.

Count Errock smiled. “Lady Judy, Lieutenant Gamelin’s mission is very important. If we end up besieged here in Outpost, Manistewa’s people outside our walls will be what we have to rely on for assistance, to attack the Zarthani and Mexicotál supply routes.”

Judy nodded, but there was a lump in her throat.

“Now, I want to speak with Captain Tuck. The rest of you are dismissed.

Tuck leaned close to Judy. “Return to the trainees. Get them started training. You know the drill.”

Judy swallowed. She was supposed to take command of nearly a hundred Hostigi soldiers? By herself?

She nodded and left. After a few steps, Tanda Havra fell in next to her, the faithful Tazi just behind her.

Tanda didn’t say anything; in fact, for the rest of the day, she didn’t say anything in Judy’s hearing. She simply stood next to her, watching everything everyone did. More than one Hostigi soldier looked nervous when they would glance in Judy’s direction. They all jumped to obey each and every one of Judy’s orders.

The sun set in the west and there was only a faint glimmer of light in the west when Tuck returned. He called a meeting of Judy, Tanda Havra, Tazi, and the four lieutenants and their matching sergeants. They walked well away from the fire and Tuck stood between them and the fire.

“At first light, Count Errock’s logistos will begin shipping mortar tubes, mortar rounds, weapons and ammunition. Captain Leitnos and Captain Andromoth will be joining us with their companies. Not quite nine hundred men. I am to command.

“Tomorrow we will spend preparing a pack train of almost all the remaining horses in Outpost. Count Errock doesn’t want to start a siege with eight hundred cavalry mounts in the town.”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement.

Tuck pointed at one of the lieutenants. “Lieutenant Illyria, how did the training go today?”

The lieutenant glanced first at Judy, then at Tanda Havra. He swallowed visibly. “We learned to adjust the fall of the rounds, Captain Tuck. Half a dozen of the gun sergeants still weren’t very good at the beginning of the day.” The lieutenant smiled. “They are much better now. Lady Judy is a patient teacher and Lady Tanda a potent motivation.”

Tanda Havra laughed aloud and Judy tried not showing any expression on her face.

“Are we ready, Lady Judy?” Tuck was being formal, she thought, very formal.

“Captain Tuck, the troopers are eager. Yes, sir. They can deliver any attack you command.”

“We will prepare the mounts and packs tomorrow, but we won’t load. We will serve as a mobile reserve, even though Count Errock hasn’t stated it as his intention, obviously we could be used to shore up attacks against the Zarthani. We must be ready for anything we are ordered to do and be ready to do it at once.”

They didn’t get to sleep until well after midnight. Then they were up before first light. Troops and equipment were being ferried across the lake. Some of the larger rafts that normally serviced the Outer Town were moved around to assist in the preparations.

By midmorning the lakeshore camp was a swirl of dust and horses; hoarsely shouting officers and men, and above all, Tuck. Tuck was there as needed. He straightened out messes, answered questions, and solved problems simple and complex. Judy stayed close, as did Tanda and Tazi. Occasionally, he would send Tanda away, but never Judy.

The smoke that night from the cook fires bothered Judy for the first time. There were a lot of fires and a lot of men next to the lake. Judy could only shake her head in wonder at the changes made in just a day. Tuck had overseen siting the horse lines and the tent lines. The lines of latrines and placing the mess tents.

Judy had no idea how one person could keep track of so many different things.

She asked Tuck about it and he shrugged. “You should try to run a stud ranch! With quarter horses and thoroughbreds, you want the foals born as close to January First as you can get, without coming before. On the first of January, a horse born in the previous year is a yearling, even if the newborn is a day old. A horse born in the wrong year is, shall we say, at a competitive disadvantage for years.

“So, come the first of the year, foals are born. Typically, you move mares to the home of the next stud well before the foal is due. You have to deal with new horses, new problems. Then, the foals. Then, two months later, it’s time to introduce all those eligible mommas to the studs. I can’t begin to describe how careful you have to be. Stud fees aren’t small change, and if a stallion covers the wrong mare, you can have big trouble! And there are legal limits to how many mares the studs can see, so you just can’t run another mare past the fellow.

“From December to April the work starts before you can see and goes until you can’t see. And during the foaling season, frequently goes all night as well. Ten thousand little things. And in combat...a million little things. It does take getting used to.”

Judy smiled wanly. “I was wondering if there was a point to your story.”

“There is. Get some sleep! Tomorrow we’ll get a chance to rest, maybe the day after. Then, trade will pick up again. You will need to be as rested as you can get.”

Dawn found them rowing back towards Outpost. Not only Tuck and Judy, but also Tanda, Tazi, and all of the other officers who’d been assigned to Tuck.

Count Errock looked gaunt and tired, something Judy wasn’t prepared for. “Fifteen thousand Zarthani and Mexicotál are moving against us; they’ve left their camp and are moving north. They are using an extensive screen; when one of our scouts signals, troops are rushed towards them. It is too early too tell how many of our people have been captured or killed, but if they can’t signal, they might as well have been killed or captured.”

Tuck chuckled, dispelling the mood a bit. “My experience with scouts is that they are cautious and timid. Some, perhaps, have been lost. I suspect most have gone to ground.”

“But they cannot report,” the count repeated.

“True enough, but they did their job, pretty much. We know they’re coming, we know where. The question is, how much do you want to risk stopping them from getting up the Barrier?”

“I have sent Captain Helmoth. He will have three hundred men to oppose them. He is in constant communication with us.”

Tuck nodded.

“And your preparations, Captain?”

Tuck bobbed his head. “We can be moving in any direction within a palm width. We have the loads on the pack frames; it will just take putting the frames on the horses and adjusting the loads. Most of the men have done this many times before.”

Count Errock nodded. “I am not certain yet if I want you to attack the road or ride in support of Captain Helmoth.”

“Whatever you command, Count,” Tuck replied confidently. “I recommend that we march to the end of the lake before dark tonight. It’s only a short distance, but from there we will be ready to move in any direction.”

“Do it after the heat of the day passes,” the count instructed.

“Yes, Lord Count.”

Judy had a few minutes with her friends. Elspeth looked tired and Judy worried for her. Elspeth shook her head, “It’s simple, according to the logistos. We work hard now, then, once the siege begins, we can sit on our bottoms until either the final assault or the siege is broken.”

Lydia and Becky were both teaching school. It was a little scary to realize that eighth graders knew more than all but the most advanced Hostigi scholars!

Then it was back across the lake and she threw the last of her things into her pack, and then packed her tent. Her tent was the one she’d brought with her, a small nylon tent. It was light and the best part of all, she had a horse to carry all of her things as well as a horse to ride. There were a half dozen mortar rounds, of course, along to balance out the load on her packhorse.

The double column of horses was an impressive sight when they were finally all in motion–for one thing, they stretched nearly a mile and left a towering plume of dust.

She watched the dust float out across the lake, and turned to Tuck. “It’s going to be hard to sneak like we’ve done before with this many horses.”

“If we start raiding the road, we will find a place to make a forward camp and park most of the horses and men there for a couple of days. If you think the dust is bad, wait until you see how much grass this many horses eat in a day.

“In the old days you had to be very careful where you marched your army. If someone else had just marched their army along the same route, you had no food for yourselves or fodder for your horses. A lot of battles were fought with the other side’s pack train as a goal, because if they didn’t capture it, the army would starve.”

The lead elements of the column started making camp a half palm width before the others arrived. Tuck started to work on that camp, when a messenger arrived, having rowed in one of the small boats from Outpost.

“Captain Tuck, Count Errock would like you to report to him. Lady Judy, Captain Leitnos, Captain Andromoth, Lady Tanda are to accompany you.”

Judy watched Tuck nod. A few minutes later they were being rowed back across the lake. Tuck looked phlegmatic, with no expression on his face, which told Judy that something was wrong.

She switched to English, something they now rarely spoke. “Tuck, is there a problem?”

He looked at her and shrugged. “I have no idea. Typically, good news is given up front. Bad news is when you have hasty conferences of senior officers, without telling them the topic in advance, called by runners instead of broadcast. We need to be patient until we know more. Speculation without information is a fast way to run down unit morale.”

Count Errock stood in the council chamber, as they all met.

“Earlier, shortly after High Sun, Captain Helmoth reported Zarthani cavalry skirmishers, west of him. He was, he messaged, going to investigate. There have been no further contacts with him; it’s now more than four palm widths since his initial report.

“Scouts report seeing Zarthani cavalry horses being lifted up the Barrier, west of Captain Helmoth. One scout reported that the Zarthani cavalry mounts were being lifted in four stages of about a thousand feet each. Right up the sheerest rock face of the Barrier. The scout reported he’d seen over a hundred horses lifted in a palm width.”

“The number is hardly credible,” the logistos, sitting next to Elspeth, said. “A hundred over a distance of thousands of feet? That makes no sense.”

“That’s what the scout reported. Another scout reported that ‘many horses being lifted eight miles west of the wagon road.’ Our scouts are being targeted by the Zarthani. After the initial reports, neither scout has since reported.”

The count looked around the room. “I have to assume the worst: that the Zarthani have reached the top of the Barrier in significant force. We are probably only seeing a thousand or so cavalry, but there is no way to be certain. In any case, if they moved a thousand cavalry up last night, then I have to assume at least another thousand or so infantry so far today and perhaps more. Captain Helmoth’s silence isn’t good.

“Captain Tuck. You will march your force southeast. You will take trader Manistewa with you; you will join with the Ruthani in their mountain redoubt. From there you will march south into the northern areas of the Mexicotál God-King’s lands. You will allow as many Mexicotál soldiers to pass north as is feasible, and then you will attack and destroy their road and such Mexicotál towns as you feel suitable to attack. The goal is to cut off as large a number of troops here in the north as far as possible from their supplies.”

The logistos stood his ground. “Lord Count, the Zarthani would still be able to supply the forces in the field. Unless a huge number of Mexicotál come against us.”

“Once Captain Tuck started talking about cutting the Zarthani road, I made additional plans in case he should fail. I will not say what those plans are, but at an opportune moment, I will implement them.”

There was no time after the meeting but a few hugs for Judy’s friends, and then they were back off across the lake. It wasn’t even dark yet and already she felt enormously tired.

The men were already up, getting ready to move, having been warned by heliograph.

It was nearly dark, and the ride was quick, but relatively easy. They moved east, then gradually turning south, staying on top of the rim. By late afternoon it was all Judy could do to stay on her horse; even the rests weren’t much help. Particularly when it meant she had to climb down then climb back up on the big mare she’d been given to ride.

Twice, as the afternoon wore on, she saw Tuck watching her. Each time she set her teeth and smiled at him. Then, just before dark, they climbed a small hill that gave them a good view of the surrounding area. Judy managed to climb the hill, but she was nearly as exhausted as she’d been the first few days of their flight from Tuck’s van.

Tanda Havra, Tazi and a couple of Manistewa’s men had scouted ahead and found a campsite. There was water and grass for the men and horses. The horses ate the grass, and the men camped on a small corner of grass in a larger meadow. The top of the hill was just a hundred feet higher and less than two hundred yards distant.

Judy saw to setting up her own tent, next to one the same size that Tanda and Tazi would use. Hers was dark green nylon, theirs was much heavier canvas, dyed more of a tan than a green.

Judy finished getting the tent up and saw Tuck standing off to one side, where he had a good view back towards Outpost. There were a half dozen officers standing around Tuck, along with Manistewa. They were all watching a light blinking in the distance.

Tuck looked at Judy and grimaced, then spoke in English. “What goes around, comes around.”

“Captain?” Manistewa asked.

“War is never a sure thing,” Tuck spoke to all of them in Zarthani. “The Zarthani cavalry destroyed Captain Helmoth and his men. Captain Helmoth launched an attack right into the middle of the biggest bunch of them he could find. For the glory of Hostigos and the High King.”

“Stupid man!” Manistewa said, then spat on the ground.

“A stupid man,” Tuck agreed. “I know not so long ago you all fought like that. It was the way of it. To fight for your king, your liege, to defend your people. You thought it glorious and heroic to die in their defense. Except, of course, if Helmoth had simply withdrawn without a fight, he’d have immeasurably increased Count Errock’s ability to hold Outpost. Even if Helmoth had simply moved around the Zarthani and attacked their supply line, he’d have hurt them more than he did. The attacking force would have had to turn around to protect their supplies. All he accomplished was to get a lot of men killed. According to Count Errock, he checked them for only a few palm widths. Tomorrow the Zarthani will be starting the siege of Outpost.

“Some of you have wives and children at Outpost. Before you go thinking about how gloriously Captain Helmoth died, think about your families first. Then, contemplate whether Captain Helmoth did his duty to them...or not.

“Talk to your men, tonight. Tell them what has happened; above all, be honest. Then tell them they can ride back come first light and add to the defense of Outpost, or they can ride south with the rest of us, to do our duty as ordered by Count Errock. And I tell you to tell them, on my word, that those who will ride south with me will each count for ten men, in the battles ahead against the Mexicotál. Ten men!”

II

Freidal had been in front of his troops when they marched into the fort. He saluted Count Quillan, and then stayed on his horse until they were at the quarters area. The men took the wounded to the hospital tents and then collapsed into their own blankets.

Freidal waited until the last man was resting before he sought out Xitki. “This isn’t working,” he told the old man bluntly.

Xitki Quillan toyed with a mug of wine and waved him to sit. “The first thing a competent officer learns is to plan. The first thing battle teaches him is that plans don’t work. In our pride and contempt for our enemies, we made not only battle plans, but war plans.” He snorted in derision.

“Now we learn the bitter truth: war plans are more fragile than battle plans.”

Freidal waved his hand like angry gnats were attacking him. “We must attack! We should leave a few hundred men here and attack Outpost with everyone else. If we follow the Great Plan, we’ll still be sitting here, those of us still alive, during the peace talks after the war. Won or lost someplace else.”

Xitki looked at him hard. “You think you can do my job better than me?”

Freidal shook his head. “Of course not! It’s the others. It’s the so-called Great Plan!”

“The Great Plan is the result of the effort of the finest men of Zarthan, approved by your father, the king; the God-King of the Mexicotál and the priests of Styphon. I signed off on the Great Plan! I signed off on the captain-general’s plan to raid towards Outpost.

“Once again, Freidal: do you think you can do my job better than I can?”

“No! It was those other people! I’ve never had a problem with any of your plans. Tell me to my face you thought the captain-general’s plan was sound! Tell me to my face that you thought the Great Plan had any chance of working!”

“Give me your hand, Freidal!”

Freidal offered up his hand and Xitki led Freidal’s fingers to his throat. “What do you feel, Captain?”

“Your skin. The pulse of your blood.”

“I’m alive, Freidal. If I’d told your father the Great Plan wasn’t worth the parchment it was written on, I’d be dead. I had to compromise. Delos was a favorite of Styphon’s House. To overrule him was to place myself in great jeopardy. Tell me, Freidal, how can I help my king, my soldiers, and the people of the realm, if I’m dead?”

Freidal pulled his hand back. “And I could have closed my hand and you would be dead. We must attack, Xitki. We’ve lost nearly two thousand men, killed or wounded, since we arrived. We haven’t once fought the main body of those who oppose us.”

“And that is your plan, Captain? We simply mount up the men and launch ourselves at our enemy’s throats? Right now?”

Freidal laughed, breaking the tension. “Okay, that would be a pretty stupid thing to do this afternoon. Tomorrow morning.”

Quillan smiled slightly. “And between now and then?”

Freidal nodded. “Make preparations and plans.”

“Well then! I’m glad you’ve come around to my way of thinking, Captain!”

“I can’t go on like this, you know I can’t,” Freidal said, his voice plaintive.

“And we are back again to the discussion about whether or not you can do my job better than me.”

“No. I am, however, my father’s son. I believe the position of captain-general has fallen vacant.”

“And you think a jumped-up captain of cavalry can do a better job than your predecessor?”

“One thing I am sure of is that I could hardly do worse! Yes!” Freidal retorted. 

“Then I guess we should find out how that sits with the other captains. One or two of them might feel that they have a better claim to the position.”

“There is something else we must talk about first,” Freidal told him.

“Something more important than a council of war, so that we may plan this attack you so favor? A council of war where we elevate you to captain-general?”

“Something of direct importance to it, yes. My Lord, Count Quillan. I saw something on the field a few days ago. Something no one else seems to have remarked on. Something that you must know, before we can plan anything.”

Xitki made a come-along gesture.

Freidal gestured at Lamas, Xitki Quillans’s batman. “Could you fetch Sergeant Alcibidos? He’s waiting outside my tent.”

A few moments later a man limped in on a crutch. His leg was splinted, his arm was splinted, his face bandaged. “Sergeant, please tell Count Quillan your duties under the Captain-General.”

The man looked at Xitki Quillan and bobbed his head in respect. “My Lord, I was the senior picket sergeant.”

“I want you to answer carefully for the count,” Freidal told the sergeant. “I want your best, most truthful answers. I swear to you on my honor that nothing you say here today will bring you or yours hurt.”

“Why would I want to hurt one of my sergeants?” Xitki asked reasonably. “I know Alcibidos, he was a sergeant when I was a lad. A loyal and trusted man.”

“Sergeant, where were you when the battle commenced?”

“My Lord, Captain-General Delos ordered two pickets forward to scale the ridge line. I could not order any man forward under such circumstances unless I was at his side.” The old sergeant grimaced. “I could not keep up with trooper Rodrigos; he was ahead of me. When the Hostigi opened fire, they shot him first. I took cover.”

“And then Colonel Trium ordered a dozen of his men up the hill,” Freidal offered.

“Yes, Lord. There had only been the one shot. There was no way to tell it was a trick.”

“How many shots in the next volley?” Freidal inquired.

“Perhaps ten or fifteen. The Hostigi are fell marksmen, half of those shots went home.”

“Did you see where the shots were coming from?” Freidal asked.

The old sergeant bit his lip. “I had my rifle up, looking for a target. I couldn’t see a target.”

“Dense smoke from the fireseed, of course,” Freidal said equitably.

“No, Lord. I simply couldn’t see where the shots were coming from.”

“Surely, the fireseed smoke obscured your vision?” Freidal continued.

The sergeant frowned, obviously thinking. “I don’t recall any wind, but there must have been some. There was little or no smoke, not at first.”

“Did you see any muzzle flashes, sergeant?”

“The one that killed trooper Rodrigos.”

“Which way did the smoke blow from that shot?”

Again the sergeant contemplated an answer. “When I saw the flash, I took cover at once, my Lord. When I looked again, there was no smoke.”

“Thank you, sergeant,” Freidal told the man. “I appreciate your bravery and courage.”

“I too,” Count Quillan said. “I hope you will mend soon.”

The sergeant snorted. “Two or three moons, they tell me. I’m not as young as I once was.”

He left and Xitki gestured at Freidal. “And the point of that?”

“I told my troop sergeant that we were not to be the first up the hill. I was looking upslope when the trooper was shot. I could see the muzzle flash, but I couldn’t see any fireseed smoke. Later, when Trium tried the hill, I saw muzzle flashes from one point alone, firing repeatedly. And no fireseed smoke.”

“Undoubtedly you have a point to make,” Xitki told him, his voice tight.

“I think the High King knew about the Great Plan. I think he’s here. I think it is he, personally, who opposes us. The High King had a weapon that fired without fireseed smoke and fired more than once without reloading.”

Xitki looked at Freidal for a moment, and then shook his head. “We know the High King was in Hostigos town less than a moon before the attack. There was a public dedication of his new University in the city they have rebuilt. Unless the High King can fly like a bird, there is no way he could be here.”

“Unless it was a double and he came secretly.”

“If the High King had come, we’d be facing more than a few thousand summer soldiers. He’d have brought his field army at the same time.”

“That we might have noticed,” Freidal said, laughing, trying to take the edge off. “No, I think it was just the High King and a cadre of his better officers.”

“You are young, Freidal. You have, undoubtedly, read the romantic stories of kings traveling as commoners, princesses masquerading as bar maids or princes posing as cavalry captains.

“Freidal, if you were about to plunge your entire patrimony into war, would you ride off clear across the world from all that is important in your kingdom to take part in one small, albeit vital, part in the war? It makes no sense. We have a strong contingent of our Mexicotál allies with us, but that is just the lifting of their little finger. They have more than a million men marching on Xiphlon. We have fifty men with that horde–a representative of the king and his personal guards.”

“I’m telling you what I saw. The sergeant confirmed it.”

“He confirmed nothing, Freidal. His companion was shot, and he went to ground quickly, so he wouldn’t get shot. When Trium’s men came up the hill, he saw more shooting, but some of it undoubtedly came his way as well. He took cover again. I daresay you could ask a hundred men what they did in the battle and they could only tell you about half, if that. Every last one of those men would tell you a different story. When battle scares the pee and shit out of you, you spend your time thinking about that, not whether or not the High King is firing smokeless fireseed at you.”

“Xitki, I’m warning you, that’s all. Think what you like. But we know the party that hit the fort numbered about thirty. Does that make any sense? They caused death and injury out of all proportion to their number. You can ask any of the scouts and soldiers from the last battle. We know there were a hundred of them. That’s all. One to our ten. And they slaughtered us.

“Xitki, allow in your calculations that there is something, someone facing us that you don’t understand. These aren’t the usual Hostigi tactics; these are something different. These tactics are bold, unique, and deadly effective. Things like the High King has been known to do.”

Xitki Quillan looked at Freidal, and then shrugged. “Do me a favor. This is a story you can tell me; I trust Alcibidos as well. While he didn’t draw the same conclusions, there is nothing in what he said that contradicts you, but his statements don’t prove your idea either. Whatever you do, don’t tell your story to anyone else. Maybe if we get confirmation of who it is we face, then it would be time to talk of your suspicions. I will freely admit that you were the one who noticed first and voiced your suspicions to me.

“Right now, Freidal, morale is in the latrine trench. We can’t afford for it to decline any further. Not unless we know for sure. This is something we can take precautions for. But if the troops were to hear a rumor that they faced the High King...we’d be marching home in a day or two, because they’d be sure he’d be going for our homes before the summer wanes.”

Xitki had Freidal retire to clean up and make himself more presentable. When Freidal returned, the Council of War was already underway. A lesser man might have taken umbrage, but Freidal knew full well that Count Quillan was easily the most devious man in the kingdom.

When he entered, everyone looked to him. Freidal bobbed his head. “I’m sorry for being late, Count Quillan.”

“No problem. I saved you a seat.” Xitki waved at the only slightly less ornate chair than his that sat at his right hand at the head of the table. The one the captain-general had warmed before his untimely death.

Freidal walked over and sat down next to the old man, keeping his face empty of expression.

“Prince, do you have a word for us?” Xitki asked.

Freidal bobbed his head. “My position as a captain of cavalry was a polite fiction. It satisfied our allies, the servants of the God-King of the Mexicotál, who has sent his eldest son, his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren to reside with my father. Officially, they are my father’s guests. All know them to be hostages for the honor of the God-King. They were afforded my father’s protection and I was afforded the protection of my father’s army.

“Polite fiction time has come and gone. Our armies have proved to be lacking in the field. We have lost battles; we have not been able to adhere to the Great Plan.

“We currently have enough supplies to sally forth against our enemies.” There was a stir in the room and Freidal grinned sardonically. “True, we have enough to ride out, but not to return. Unless we defeat the Hostigi quickly we would be in trouble. However, we’re already in trouble. I would prefer to face my father and explain to him that we tried and failed to carry Outpost by assault, rather than to explain to him that we failed to take Outpost because we sat inside our tiny wall and essayed nothing.”

III

Gamelin was sitting with his back against a rock, using Hellfire for shade. He grimaced to himself. This was a familiar position for him here in the desert. Except most of the other times he’d had the wit to doze in the time he had. He looked around. Like the first time, Judy was nowhere to be seen. Then, though, even if he hadn’t been aware of it, he’d have seen her before the day ended. This day, it wasn’t to be.

Vosper whistled and pointed to the northwest. Gamelin saw the signal blinking and heaved himself up and trotted towards Vosper and his signalman. “What?” Gamelin asked.

“Not good,” Vosper said, watching the light blink. “The Zarthani have attacked towards Outpost. Helmoth managed to kill himself and three hundred men.”

Vosper turned to the signalman. “That is how you read it, don’t you?”

The signalman nodded. “Yes, Sergeant! They are repeating the message again.”

“Signalman, send, ‘We continue our mission,’” Gamelin told the man.

The signalman started sending, even before his lieutenant had finished speaking. After a finger width the signalman turned to Gamelin. “Lieutenant, they acknowledge.”

“Signalman,” Vosper spoke. Both Gamelin and the signalman looked at the sergeant. “About now you have an urgent need to piss. The temptation to mention what you’ve just seen will tempt you to speak of it to others. Signalman, not just this time, but if I hear you’ve passed on a message meant for others to your friends, why, I’ll chop you into little pieces and leave you for the ants.”

The signalman grinned. “My captain told me the day I volunteered for signal duty that my job would be the easiest in camp. But also the most dangerous. That if I spoke of what I knew, it would show I was untrustworthy and I would be killed out of hand. Sergeant, I like my job! I don’t have guard duty! I don’t have to wake up before dawn! Once upon a time, I could sleep the entire night without worrying about being woken. I won’t mess up, Sergeant!”

Gamelin had stood back, watching the byplay, thinking. There were no more signals, so he walked back towards the camp. Chollo, Manistewa’s man appeared. “Bad news, Lieutenant?”

“Yes. Outpost is attacked; we lost a lot of men and evidently didn’t get much for it. How far now, to your redoubt?”

The other waved ahead of them. “We’ve been going slowly, Lieutenant. At this rate, five days.”

“We need to be faster.”

The man looked at Gamelin and then nodded. “You will have to spend horses. Perhaps men. Two days, in that case.”

“We cannot spend either,” Gamelin told him. “The supplies have to come through.”

“Tomorrow, men will come to help carry the burden. Men who will not be able to carry as much as a horse, but who will still live at the end of the journey.”

Gamelin frowned. “That’s horses. Two days and I will lose soldiers.”

“Not the good ones,” the Ruthani trader told him bluntly. “Your men...they aren’t very good, Lieutenant! Not up to our standards, they aren’t very tough! You can’t let the weak ones slow you down.”

“We will go as fast as we may,” Gamelin told the man. “I will not spend men. If someone falls, we’ll carry him.”

“You command, Lieutenant. The choice will be yours,” the trader told him. Making it clear Gamelin’s choice was just plain stupid.

After that, the rest of the day was a nightmare. No more rests. No more walking the horses. Fortunately, the break had come in the afternoon, because by dark, his men were exhausted and the horses were worse.

But, come dawn, there were men, more Ruthani, who appeared from the desert. They were grim, hard men. Men, Gamelin quickly came to learn, who had one purpose: killing Mexicotál. Oh, they’d kill Zarthani if they had a chance, but the Mexicotál were their prime target.

The worst part of the next day was the High Sun halt. It was clear about fifteen of his men and about fifty horses would die in the afternoon, if they kept on. The Ruthani had brought enough men to bear the burdens the horses had carried, but they weren’t interested in helping the Hostigi.

Gamelin made the hardest choice of his life. “I know it’s not the best thing, Vosper. I want you to stay with these men and the spent horses. Let them rest until tomorrow and then continue on. If need be, take another day. Go slowly. We’ll keep in touch. I’ll see if we can send you more water as well.”

Vosper had laughed. “You have made an old man’s day, Lieutenant! Duty I can appreciate! This way I will arrive well-rested and ready for anything!”

Gamelin was pretty sure that if Vosper had continued on with the main body, he’d have arrived rested and ready for whatever was next.

The rest of the day was really bad, stretching all of them to their limits. Chollo was resting as the sun was half consumed by the horizon and Gamelin crouched next to him. “How much further?” Gamelin croaked.

Manistewa’s man eyed Gamelin and smiled slightly. “You did better than I would have thought. But we slowed significantly this afternoon.”

“It was very hot,” Gamelin said. Even wetting his throat hadn’t helped and there wasn’t much water.

“We know.” Chollo waved at the pile of mountains ahead of them. “In that canyon ahead, some of the women and children have brought water. You won’t see them. Tomorrow, about halfway to High Sun, we’ll make the final camp. There will be shade, water and grass for the horses.”

He stopped talking and shaded his eyes, looking northwards. After a heartbeat he grinned. “Manistewa’s niece comes behind us, along with her friend.”

Gamelin turned and looked, but couldn’t see anything. After half a finger width of being told where to look, he could see the two ants out across the desert floor. He could only shake his head in amazement. His father had trackers like that, men who could see in the distance as Tuck with his glass device. They all swore it wasn’t sorcery, just very good eyes.

While they were waiting, the signals sergeant approached diffidently. “Lieutenant, would you look at this?”

He was carrying some rocks. Gamelin grimaced, suddenly sure he was going to learn something about rocks. He bobbed his head to the older man, nearly as old as Gamelin’s father. “In a moment, Sergeant.”

Gamelin turned back to Chollo. “And this camp tomorrow...it doesn’t sound very much like the redoubt I have heard about.”

“It isn’t. You will never see it, Lieutenant. Tomorrow more people will come, and the remaining weapons and supplies will be taken to safety. This is no need for any Hostigi to see where.”

“That isn’t the understanding I was given by Count Errock.”

Chollo chuckled. “Even if Manistewa had been telling the truth, which he wasn’t, the Elders of the Ruthani wouldn’t have permitted it. In times of peace, very few of our people know the way. A few more know a place to go to find a guide to take them to safety. We have kept our secret safe for more than a thousand years, Lieutenant, and we plan on keeping it safe for another thousand.”

The signal sergeant spoke up. “Then, Ruthani, you need to kill us all.” He tossed one of the rocks in his hand, and then handed it to Gamelin. It was incredible! The rock was the heaviest he’d ever lifted!

“My father, Lieutenant, is a scholar who travels the lands of the High King. It is his duty to look for minerals. That rock, Lieutenant, is called leadstone. It contains a lot of lead, plus silver and other minerals. If there is very much of this, then the High King will claim the land.”

Gamelin’s first instinct was to shoot the sergeant. It was clear Chollo was thinking the same thing.

“The High King has not claimed this land and we will not let him,” Chollo said evenly. “You will see things like leadstone and other odd rocks in our lands. Forget them. They belong to our people, not yours.”

The sergeant bristled. “We have already spent a great deal of lead on the Mexicotál and Zarthani. We are here to send them more. And you would begrudge the High King the wherewithal to do it?”

“Sergeant,” Gamelin interrupted the other’s tirade. The sergeant looked at him. “Shut your mouth! Take samples; take notes of where you found them. This is none of our business, but affairs of state that are the concern of Count Errock and the High King. Like your messages, you aren’t to go talking about this to anyone except me.”

The sergeant stood, furious and contemptuous. “As you command, Lieutenant.” He stalked away, rigid with anger.

Chollo regarded Gamelin coldly. “You will not take that which belongs to our people.”

“Me?” Gamelin laughed as best he could. “I have a sixty men and only a few more than half of them here. I couldn’t take a latrine pit unless my enemies withdrew first. As I told the sergeant: this is a matter for my superiors. And your elders.”

“All know how the elders feel,” Chollo said.

Gamelin glanced out over the desert. Tanda Havra and Tazi were much closer, running like ghosts over the desert. Gamelin couldn’t help but feel his heart lift, knowing that somewhere behind them was Tuck and Lady Judy.

Chollo laughed at him. “I don’t have to worry about you. You are so love-smitten that you will not pay attention in your first battle.”

Gamelin turned to face the much older man. “I paid attention in my first battle. And my second and my third. Lady Judy is not so much a distraction, as a motivation.”

The other laughed and in what Gamelin guessed was supposed to be a friendly gesture, punched Gamelin hard in the arm. It was going to leave a bruise, Gamelin thought, but he resisted the temptation to rub it, or to return the blow, which had been his first thought.

Tanda Havra and Tazi slowed to a walk a few hundred paces away and came up to them. They were, Gamelin saw, breathing no differently than he was. They were sweaty and dusty, both needed a bath, but Gamelin was sure that was all they needed. And probably wouldn’t mind going without the bath for a while longer.

“Lieutenant, Chollo,” Tanda said, bowing slightly to Gamelin, but not to her uncle’s man.

“Tanda! Did you see Vosper?”

“Aye, they’ll be here tomorrow before sunset.”

“We have another quarter day’s journey before we make final camp,” Gamelin told her.

Tanda Havra shrugged. “Then, day after tomorrow. They will lose some horses; there isn’t sufficient water. In another moon, you will not be able to come this way at all.”

“And Captain Tuck?” Gamelin asked.

She grinned. “Tuck and the others, two more days for sure. He is more careful, staying further east than you did. It isn’t as short a trip, but there is more water.”

“This moon,” Chollo opined.

Tanda grinned and bobbed her head. “This moon, indeed so!”

Later, Gamelin stood off to one side of the camp, contemplating the mass of mountains to the south. There was only the slightest trace of light left. It rankled that he’d had to rely on Chollo and his men to bring the water; Gamelin’s men were too spent.

Still, they were okay now and tomorrow would see them delivering the remainder of the weapons and supplies they carried with them. From out of the gathering darkness, Tanda Havra appeared to stand next to him. She too contemplated the mountains.

“You are upset that they won’t show you the redoubt,” she told him.

“It doesn’t seem very trusting. But a thousand years...that is a long time to keep a secret.”

“Will it help if I told you that until I started south I did not have any idea of where it was? The general direction. South and east from Mogdai. Not how far, not more than a vague direction. As you may have noticed, there are a lot of mountains down here.”

“I noticed,” Gamelin said, slightly amused. The Trygath wasn’t like this at all! There a man could ride for days and the greatest eminence he might pass would be little taller than he was.

He turned to face her as the last of the light faded. “Tanda Havra, you were with Tuck. We hurried south, once we heard that Outpost had been invested. We haven’t heard anything since.”

“Well, as of two days ago, it still held,” she told him.

“And Tuck? What are his intentions?”

“As Count Errock said: to take the war into the lands of the Mexicotál.”

“Everyone says the desert south of here is worse than what we’ve seen so far.”

“It is. I am not sure of my uncle, Lieutenant. The morning after we learned of Captain Helmoth’s attack, he produced an order from Duke Skranga, saying he wasn’t to go into the field because of his knowledge of the High King’s secrets. So he turned around and returned to Outpost. That makes no sense to me.”

Gamelin grimaced. “I don’t understand it either. Count Errock might not give him the welcome he expects. It might be colder than the one we got here.”

“Come,” she said, lightly tugging on his sleeve. They walked back towards the fires, stopping outside the circle of light, but where they could see each other.

“I told you, Tuck has gone slower, he has stayed closer to water. His men are in much better shape than yours.”

“I should have gone slower,” Gamelin mused.

“No, you were told to come with all speed and that’s what you did. That, Gamelin, is what people like you and I do, when commanded by the likes of Count Errock and Tuck.”

“You sound like an old sergeant.”

“I am of the Northern Ruthani. I left them because my mother disgraced her family and my father turned his back on me. I came here, where my uncle lived, because it was the best choice I had. I didn’t care for his attentions, so I moved on to Mogdai. I was a stranger there for a very long time. They trusted me, this much.” She held up her fingers a very short distance apart. “They trust my uncle only a little more. The elders here have allowed him to speak for them, because it is something they need.”

“The world is a very complicated place,” Gamelin said sadly.

“The world,” Tanda Havra said quietly, “is the sum of our actions. It is what we make of it.”

“Now you sound like a philosopher,” Gamelin told her.

That reduced Tanda Havra to doubled-over laughter. “What I am, Lieutenant, is a solitary person who has spent too much time alone.”

“Tuck is a good man,” Gamelin said stoutly.

She laughed again. “Lieutenant, Tuck fights his own battles. As do I. But that isn’t to say you’re wrong, either.”

There was a sound behind Gamelin and he turned and saw nothing. When he turned back, Tanda Havra was gone. He chuckled to himself. Was it that simple? If a guard heard a small sound at night, he would turn and look, would he not? And since it was a small sound and if the guard saw nothing amiss, he’d finally turn back to his duty, content.

IV

Tanda Havra sat down near the fire and Tazi promptly joined her. “Rest, Tazi. Tomorrow will be easy, the day after easier still.”

“I helped fetch water,” the younger girl said.

“That is good,” Tanda told her.

“He was one of the ones who helped.”

Tanda grinned, quite sure who “he” was. “Captain Tuck fought next to him three times. I don’t think just anyone could do that, or having done so, be asked to do it again unless he was a good man.”

Tazi bobbed her head. “He wants me to walk with him tonight.”

“This is not a good time,” Tanda told her. “But it might not be a good time for several years to come. This is a choice you and he have to make.”

“I said no. I told him I would rather run next to you, than walk with him.”

“I am even less suitable than he is,” Tanda said with a laugh.

Tazi sputtered in mock outrage. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, sister. I have lived longer than you, Tazi. I’ve seen spring come, the sere summer, the relief of fall, the slowness of winter. Many times have I seen it. Many times have I seen sisters who, determined not to choose too soon, chose anyway. Do not regret choices made, Tazi.”

“Do you think Tuck will truly go south? Into the lands of the Mexicotál?”

Tanda nodded. “Truly, he will. I will help him, as much as I can. It will be a noble deed, even though we all will die.”

“As long as we can kill even one Mexicotál, it will have been a noble deed. Freeing one such as Smiling Fox’s woman or my own mother will be a deed of legend!”

Tanda smiled to herself. “I don’t think Tuck plans on stopping at one dead Mexicotál, or freeing just one of them.”

“And that is why I will wait as I must. I want to be part of this!”

“The Zarthani we have fought so far have been fools. It is clear that the Mexicotál are oath-bound to them–which is why we don’t meet many of their scouts. South of here, Tazi, those are Mexicotál lands. They will not be oath-bound there. It will be a thousand times more dangerous.”

“Yet, you go.”

“I go,” Tanda agreed. “But I go knowing that most likely I will die. I have made my peace about it. You need to make your own peace.”

“I won’t die!” Tazi told her. “Not until the last Mexicotál goes under my knife!”

“You’d be better shooting the bastard,” Chollo said, squatting down across from them.

“What, Chollo?” Tanda asked, her voice brisk.

“Walk with me,” he said, waving into the dark.

Tanda laughed. “You didn’t bring enough men to get me to walk with you.”

“I need to talk to you about a message from your uncle.”

“You need to think of a better excuse. The Hostigi signalman walks around, looking at rocks, not at the heights. Of course, if what I’ve heard is true, that’s a good use of his time, because there are no signals on the heights, and the rocks are valuable to the High King.”

Chollo stood up and looked down at them. “You would do well to mind your manners, girl! I will tell Manistewa about this!”

“You do that!” Tanda said, laughing at him.

He walked away without further words.

“He is trouble, that one,” Tazi told Tanda.

“A little trouble for me, maybe more trouble for you, sister. He is an arrogant man, given to arrogant actions.”

“That time they told me to come to you. It was him who told me.”

Tanda nodded. “I know. They will be more careful in the future.”

Tazi leaned close and her whisper was less than the lightest breeze in Tanda’s ears. Tanda grinned at her, and the two of them rose. One moment they stood in the firelight, the next they faded away.

It was a humbling thing. It was one thing for the mysterious Tuck to catch her out, but Gamelin was there, waiting for them as they walked away, into the desert.

“Going to talk to Tuck, Tanda Havra?” the lieutenant asked.

Tanda stopped, amazed at the dark shape, crouched on the ground in her path. “I am getting old and senile.”

There was the sound of a pebble hitting behind her, which brought a soft laugh to her lips. “Ah, Lieutenant! You are a fit man for Lady Judy!”

“So...you go to Tuck?”

“Yes. Tell Chollo we did not talk to you before we left.”

It was Gamelin’s turn to laugh. “And you’ve already left, eh?”

Tazi chuckled at that, understanding the two of them.

“Even so, Lieutenant,” Tanda said.

“Tell Tuck we’ve seen no enemies, but the welcome isn’t as warm as one could like.”

She nodded and then she and Tazi were off, loping across the silver desert, lit only by the moon and stars.

In a way, such runs were liberating. There was only the smooth flow of muscles, the small discomfort of trickles of sweat. You had to pay constant attention to your footing, to what lay close ahead, to what lay further ahead and above all you had to focus on your goal.

Tanda laughed to herself, sure that such as Tuck or Gamelin would never understand that running like this was relaxing.

She remembered an old professor at the University talking to a group of eager young students gathered in his office. He’d been outtime for more years than most of them had been alive.

“Solis asked why it is that a group of people travels so much slower than even the slowest member of the group. Consider the last time you got together to go to dinner with friends. You could not leave until the slowest among you was finally ready to go. And then you had to seek out those who’d been early, gotten bored and went someplace else for a short time.

“Then, you travel no faster than the slowest vehicle. And if someone gets the directions wrong, more time is spent straightening them out. At the restaurant you find seats, and those with weak bladders rush to the rest rooms. Sometimes it takes the servers several passes to get everyone’s orders. And then the cooks put their own stamp on things. It takes longer to prepare some dishes than others. Some chefs are better than others; some quicker, some slower. The more people involved, the wider the outliers on the bell curve fall.

“Thus, if you went by yourself you could go, order, eat and return in say, an hour. An expedition of a half dozen might take twice that. I’ve been out with my peers to formal dinners and it never fails to take all evening.”

There were chuckles in the room, but Tanda had understood the lesson.

Tanda stopped about a mile away from where she was sure Tuck’s camp was and waited patiently until sunrise. She and Tazi had covered thirty-five miles in half the night. Tuck and his men would take two days to cover the same distance.

She filled Tuck in as they walked in the morning. The column, even though it was four men abreast, strung out for nearly a mile across the desert and left a towering plume of dust flagging their position as they moved. It set Tanda’s teeth grinding in dismay.

“Not tonight,” Tuck told her, “but tomorrow night, we will make a camp at sunset, but not like usual. There will be a quick meal, a last check of gear and then we’ll strike southwest to the mountains, across the desert floor after dark. Tomorrow, I want you to return to Gamelin and Chollo and tell Chollo I want scouts out on our back trail as we come in. There’s no way to hide our tracks and any that follow us will be curious when we drop off the face of the world. It would be nice if the curiosity was fatal.”

She bobbed her head. “We can do that.”

“So, the welcome wasn’t with open arms,” Tuck mused.

“No. I hope you understand that Chollo is right. It’s been a secret kept for a thousand years. The way it has been kept is to tell as few as possible. Most of the people taken to safety there were blindfolded.”

Tuck nodded. “You don’t have to justify or apologize. Such things are best closely held secrets. However, while such secrecy is necessary, it’s neighborly to tell your allies in advance that there are things they won’t learn, and what the arrangements are.”

Tanda turned to him. “My uncle doesn’t speak for those there. Chollo doesn’t speak for them, either, no matter how much he blusters and preens. The elders will come to talk and they will decide.”

“That is fine, I don’t have a problem with that. In a bit, when we stop, I’ll draw a map and show you where we’re going to camp. It’s going to upset them, but you can tell them none of my men will wander...as I assume none of your people do.”

“To be found outside the redoubt without permission is death,” Tanda confirmed.

When he showed her their destination, she was uneasy. “This isn’t the place they took Gamelin.”

“I know. However, it has the virtue of having good water, good graze and is highly defensible. If an enemy came against us, we could go in any direction.”

Tanda was even more uneasy. “That sounds a lot like what the redoubt is like.”

“Well, I doubt that it is the exact location. Close, though. My soldiers won’t stray and, if the villagers don’t, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

He could see her unease. “Tanda, you know I’m familiar with the terrain.” She nodded mutely. Then she mentally kicked herself. She had admitted that she knew he was from Out Time.

“I’ve been in these mountains before. I know where I’m going. Trust me, it isn’t the redoubt your people have.”

She looked at him, still worried. “It will be nearly as bad if they think you know where it is. The elders might decide you need to die.”

He chuckled. “That would be a really dumb thing to do. Kill me under suspicious circumstances and my men will know. Do you really think your elders want to get into a fight with Hostigos and the High King on one side, the Zarthani and Mexicotál everywhere else?”

“They might not take the time to think.”

“Well, you and this Chollo fellow better talk to them. Count Errock trusts me; they should too.”

“I will talk to them, but I don’t think I will carry any weight. Chollo, maybe a little. Manistewa might carry a little more, but even so...we are all Northern Ruthani. They won’t trust us much more than they trust you.”

“We’ll just be careful, go slow and hope that common purpose will trump baseless fears,” Tuck said with finality, ending the discussion.

V

Judy watched Tuck and Tanda talking as they walked. There was no doubt in her mind that they were serious about what they were talking about. She sighed, wishing she was older.

She saw Tazi was walking off to one side, by herself. Judy aimed her horse that way, then climbed down and walked next to the older girl. Tazi didn’t say anything, just a quick glance, a small smile and then back to the job at hand–putting one foot in front of the next. Judy thought that the best thing she could do was respect the other’s wish not to talk, so she tried to match the other’s pace.

Her horse wasn’t as eager as Judy was; several times she had to tug on the mare’s reins. Tazi reached out a hand and held Judy for a moment. Without warning, Tazi turned and slammed a kick into the horse’s belly. The mare grunted and looked at Tazi with obvious anger.

“Now, walk fast!” Tazi told Judy and set off at a pace faster than before.

Judy followed her and most surprisingly of all, the mare kept up.

After a finger width Tazi grinned at her. “You think I hurt the horse.”

“You kicked her.”

“A horse has layers of muscles, layers of bone where I kicked it. They are big babies and very easy to scare. It is not enough to control a horse, but the horse has to know how much you enjoy horse meat.”

That had already been made clear to Judy. If a horse died on the march, it was going to go into the larder and not to waste.

They walked another palm width before they took a break. Tazi sank to the ground, squatting on her haunches in the shade Judy’s mare made.

Judy sat on the desert scree next to her. It was uncomfortably warm for a few seconds, until her body absorbed the heat. She turned to Tazi. “How do you adjust to how hot the ground is?”

Tazi frowned. “As you.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

Tazi shrugged. “And passes.”

Tuck had come up behind her. “There’s an old saying, Judy. What can’t be cured must be endured.” He spoke in English and she was surprised that it took her a moment to adjust.

“Oh.”

The ground was uncomfortably hot. You could stand or sit. Sitting was easier, even if you had a few seconds of discomfort. Obviously, the short discomfort was worth the ease of sitting versus standing. How many other things were like that in Tazi’s life? Things that she didn’t understand at all?

Tazi patted Judy’s shoulder. “Not easy, city girl, noble daughter.”

Judy spoke softly. “My father was an artisan, not a noble.”

Tazi’s eyes bulged. “I have heard it said many times...”

Tuck spoke again. “Not by me, not by Judy, not by her friends. Count Errock understands. Do you understand? The girls are the daughters of artisans. Here there are Ruthani and Hostigi, Zarthani and Mexicotál. Where we are from, there are none of those. We have different peoples, different ways of living than you do. We treat people alike, rich and poor, noble or common.”

Without a word, Tazi jumped off and ran like the wind, towards the front of the column.

“Let her go,” Tuck said softly to Judy.

“Did we upset her?”

He chuckled dryly. “No, we showed her heaven.”

He squatted down next to Judy, adopting the same stance as Tazi had been in. “I went to college, you understand? I was going to come back after I got out of the army and be a teacher like Mac. My parents died while I was in the army and left me some property and some money. I let my fancies run free.”

Judy smiled at him and he nodded.

“I studied history and anthropology in college. The American Indians in the southwest, after the white man arrived, were mostly Athabascans, coming down from northwest Canada. I think they developed an allergy to snow and ice.”

Judy bobbed her head, showing she understood the joke.

“Athabascan societies are a weird form of matriarchy, where the women can’t own anything. Inheritance passes through women, but the woman couldn’t spend it, so to speak. The men were in charge of the family possessions, but those possessions didn’t pass to their sons, but to their daughters. Think of something like a dowry.”

Judy nodded like she understood. “Most other native American tribes were out and out patriarchies. The guys ruled. In none of those societies did women have much to do beyond bearing children and doing a lot of the work. Even so, there was a great deal of variety in the tribes living in North America. There was even more variety in Central and South America.”

“And Tazi? And Tanda?” Judy asked, curious.

“I don’t know how the tribes here are organized. Tribes, Ruthani. Whatever. But women don’t seem to be valued much here either. More, maybe than what was common in such societies where we came from, but not much more, and that’s probably been tacked on by contact with the Zarthani. When the Hostigi women fight, it’s the stuff of legend and heroic deeds. Who doesn’t want to star in an epic like that?”

Judy turned on him, a little angry. “It’s a little late to persuade me to go back.”

Tuck laughed at her. “Really? I hadn’t noticed the last six days march.

“Judy, from what I’ve heard about their High King, maybe he is someone we could talk to. He ended slavery; he ended serfdom. He put a stop, pretty much, to mercenary armies. Have you heard about his farm program?”

“Farm program?”

“Yeah. The man is just as clever as a man can be. As High King, he gets half of any conquered spoils. What he’s been doing is offering chunks of land, six hundred paces on a side, to army veterans. And that’s just the privates. Double that for a sergeant, double that again for senior sergeants and lieutenants. Twenty-four hundred paces, Judy, is more than a mile. To get your land you have to agree to pay the High King a Gold Kalvan every other year for twenty years from your lands and you have to agree to get married, if you weren’t already.

“Tens of thousands of men, not just mercenaries, but the regular soldiers, have taken up his offer. It killed slavery and serfdom, deader than a doornail and quicker than you can say ‘Gosh, wow!’”

“And this has what to do with what you were saying before?”

“Why, High King Kalvan never said one word about gender in his proclamation. Women have discovered that he meant them too. If you agree to pay the gold Kalvan, agree to get married, agree to serve, the land is yours. Count Errock says that five years ago there were three women serving in the army of the High King. One was the High King’s wife; one was the wife of General Verkan, one who is married to the head of the Hostigi army. Two years ago, there were twenty, a year ago a hundred and after this year...” Tuck grinned, “he expects considerably more women recruits when the word of you, Elspeth, Becky and Lydia spread.”

“And Tanda and Tazi?”

Tuck grimaced. “Their status is a little irregular. Technically, they are contractors. Very close to being mercenaries, but by another name. Not subject to the usual rules.”

Judy held her silence, and then held it more as the day wore on. It was hot and dusty, but not too bad. They only covered about twelve miles.

Before dark, there were cooking fires in the dusk. Judy ate sitting close to Tuck and his officers, listening to their reports. Afterwards, she found Tazi, sitting next to Tanda. “Tazi, could you come and walk with me?” she asked.

She was unprepared for Tanda to start laughing and laughing. And Judy had no idea that it was possible for someone as dark-skinned as Tazi to blush. Tanda kicked Tazi on the leg. “Go, sister! Scream if you need to!”

Judy was aware that Tazi walked further away from her than usual. They stopped well short of the picket line, but outside the slowly dying light from the camp.

“I said something wrong and I’m sorry,” Judy told her.

Tazi laughed. “You surprised me.”

“Would you tell me what I did wrong?”

Tazi chuckled. “You don’t know? Really? Gamelin hasn’t asked you to walk with him?”

“Well...usually he comes to me when I’ve been walking on my own.”

Tazi giggled. “Lady Judy, when a man likes a woman in the villages, he will ask her to ‘walk with him’ away from the fires. Sometimes, you understand, they might take some time to return.”

Judy didn’t let her face betray her. Oh, my! Was this ever a good thing to know! She wished she could signal back to Elspeth, Lydia and Becky. This was something her friends needed to know! How many times had she skated close to the edge with Gamelin? And hadn’t even known it!

“That wasn’t my meaning,” Judy told Tazi as she tried to regain her composure.

“It is okay. Last night Tanda asked me to walk with her, as you did just now. It is a good joke!”

At a guess, yesterday Tazi hadn’t thought so then, but was enjoying the shoe being on someone else’s foot.

“A finger width later we were running here. A very good joke!”

“Well, I wanted to be more serious,” Judy said, trying to keep her face straight.

Tazi looked at her and giggled again. “Your ears are red.”

Judy gave it up. “I was talking to Tuck, earlier. He says that women may enlist in the High King’s army. And that women can then claim the same land as a man, although she too has to promise to marry and return a gold Kalvan every other year.”

Tazi stopped, turned and stared at Judy. “That is true? Really?”

“I don’t think Tuck would lie to me.”

Tazi nodded. “No, Lord Tuck is not a man who would knowingly lie.” Tazi touched Judy’s shoulder. “Lady Judy...if a man and a woman both fought for the High King? Would they both get land?”

Judy frowned. “I don’t know. I’ll ask, if you like.”

“Please.”

They returned to the camp and Tazi immediately went to Tanda, who a few seconds later was talking to Tuck. Then Tanda was talking to Tazi. It was, Judy thought, like what happened when you stirred an ant nest. Things happened!

Tanda returned. “The man smirks! I trust you, Lady Judy! Tell me, why does he smirk?”

“I don’t know why. What did you say to him?”

“I asked him about the lands a woman might get from the High King. Do you understand what owning land means to someone like us?”

“I think so. Property is a big deal.”

“It is more than a ‘big deal,’” Tanda said. “Property is the foundation of fortunes, of nobility. Perhaps your people don’t care about such things, but we do, even we Ruthani.”

“Where we are from, most people care about money,” Judy replied.

“So I asked him. He said yes, what you said was true. So I told him Tazi and I want to enlist. He said not to be stupid, that we are ‘oath-bound’ and couldn’t. I insisted. He told me that if we insisted, he would have to agree. Take, he said, a few days to think about it. Then he smirked at me.”

Judy thought for a few seconds, and then realized she knew what Tuck was thinking. “Tanda, Tuck is a guest among the Hostigi, as am I. We are liked, respected and obeyed, but that’s because they believe we are helping them.”

“You are helping them,” Tazi said stoutly.

“We are. And we mean it: we willingly, gladly and whole-heartedly support them. When we first met, Gamelin, he thought Tuck was a slaver taking us to the lands of the Zarthani. And it wasn’t an idle fear, was it?”

Tanda shook her head.

“And the Mexicotál. You all hate them ten times more than the Zarthani.”

“A hundred times,” Tanda said. “Maybe a thousand times.”

Judy bobbed her head. “So, Tuck could let you enlist in the army...as a private. But what are you now, really? You, Tanda, you are Tuck’s equal, a captain. And you, Tazi, you are my equal. A lieutenant. But Tuck can’t make you a captain or a lieutenant, all he can make you is a private.”

“Ahhhh!” Tanda hissed. “Count Errock is a devious man!”

“Count Errock?” Judy asked, mystified how he’d gotten into the conversation.

“Lady Judy, you are a fine person, but you are not devious. Tuck is more devious than I thought. But Count Errock! He is truly devious!”

“I don’t understand,” Judy told her.

“Tuck will ask my people for help. They would be fools not to send many men with Tuck. Not all of the men who will go with Tuck will be privates. They will have leaders, their own leaders.”

Tazi chuckled at that and said something Judy didn’t catch. Tanda grinned broadly at Tazi and Tazi grinned back.

“Lady Judy,” Tanda said, “would you like to see Gamelin this day?”

“Tuck said tomorrow,” she replied.

“Tonight there will be an extra march. If you were with the column, yes, you would see him tomorrow. Tuck wants Tazi and I to take Gamelin a message; we will leave at sundown. Come with us.”

Judy looked out over the desert. Around her she could hear hundreds of people getting ready for the night march. Go out there by herself? With just Tanda and Tazi? Then she laughed at herself. And where would Tanda and Tazi be, if Judy stayed in camp? Out there.

“I’d have to tell Tuck,” she told Tanda.

Tanda laughed. “And I wish to be alive tomorrow night! You must tell Tuck before you go.”

Judy had trouble believing Tuck would agree to let her go. Instead, he made sure she checked her pistol, had a full canteen and her best shoes. His last words weren’t reassuring, though. “If you get killed, don’t expect me to ever talk to you again!”

As they walked into the desert away from the camp, as the stars burned overhead, Tanda spoke softly. “It will not be bad. Twelve miles. We will be there long before Tuck stops to rest the first time tonight!”

Tanda started slow, before moving to a jog. Then a few minutes later picked up to a trot. Judy moved easily, not feeling really pushed by the pace.

It took another half hour before Judy realized that Tanda was still increasing the pace, but very slowly. More than an hour later Tanda slowed, and then slowed again after another quarter hour.

“There are men all around us,” Tanda said, her voice quiet, but making no pretense of a whisper. “We will go to just before the top of the little hill ahead. Then we will stop. Let them come to us, sisters!”

They slowed and stopped well before the top of the rise. Tanda pushed and pulled Tazi and Judy into three-way back-to-back formation. “Don’t hold your pistol ready, but don’t let it be far from your hand!” Tanda warned them.

After a moment Tanda raised her voice, “Come out, old men! You sound like wild pigs! Rustling and scurrying in the brush! I hope that you aren’t the best of the Lost Ruthani!”

“Woman,” a voice from the darkness replied, “you left such a trail of stink, that a blind man could smell you a mile upwind!”

“That is because a blind man is at peace with his soul and the wind. You pass the last and your soul is a shriveled pinyon nut some bird left behind in its droppings.”

“Welcome, Tanda Havra! Did you have a good run?”

“A short run, Chandi! With me is Lady Judy, the friend and ward of Captain Tuck.”

“Odd, I thought I also recognized Tazi of the People.”

“I thought perhaps you might have noticed her, yes.”

“Tell me, Tanda Havra, what brings you here?”

“Why, Captain Tuck and his men will pass through here in four palm widths. They wanted to be certain of their welcome.”

“Pass through here?” Judy recognized the sudden uncertainty in the other voice.

“Indeed. He plans on camping about two miles further along this wash. He says there is good grass and good water there. That if his enemies were to come against him, he would have his choice of directions to flee.”

Judy saw a dark shape move, to come and stand in front of Tanda Havra. “And the reason you should not all die?”

“Because, as Captain Tuck pointed out, this wouldn’t be a good time to go to war with the High King, since you are already at war with Zarthan and the Mexicotál.”

“He can not come here,” the voice said.

Tanda suddenly laughed. “Here, once again I am doing Tuck’s work! The man is amazing! If the redoubt is two miles further along, with good grass, water and quick exits, then tell me and Tuck will find another camp. Otherwise, you are being foolish.”

“His men may not leave the camp. Any man more than a hundred feet above the valley floor is dead.”

“Tuck said if his men see any of yours except those expected, he would kill them for you.”

Someone in the distance said something, and for a few heartbeats there was silence. “Stay where you are, Tanda Havra,” the barely visible man said. “Then, accompany Captain Tuck. Remind him that to get lost is to die.”

“Sure. You be sure to remind the People of the same thing.”

“They don’t need to be reminded!”

“Well, I’ve heard Tuck tell his men four times not to wander. Perhaps you should do as the elder said, shut up and let everyone get some sleep.”

Judy sniggered at that. Unless she was mistaken, hers wasn’t the only laugh from close by, even if she could only see the one interlocutor.

Tanda sat down on the still warm ground. The three of them slept then, leaning against each other. Judy wasn’t sure what it was, or why, but she felt ten feet tall and happier than she’d ever been.


	20. Marching South

I

Captain Tuck arrived well after midnight. First a few of Manistewa’s men filtered up the ravine and Tanda Havra talked to them. After a short time, Tuck joined the three women.

“You three did well, thank you,” Tuck responded after Tanda finished her explanation. Tuck glanced up at the sky, but the earlier stars had vanished. “We’re looking at not making camp until well after sun up. I doubt if the men will do much wandering today, but we’ll remind them again anyway. And again this evening and tomorrow morning.”

Judy and the Ruthani went forward, while Tuck returned to his main body. Eventually they stopped under some large cottonwood trees, next to a stream that rushed noisily out towards the desert. Judy had walked by the watercourse and knew that the water only ran a few hundred feet beyond the trees before it was sucked into the sands and vanished.

Again, the advance party dozed another few hours before finally additional troops started arriving. Tuck was with them and he supervised siting the camp. Both the High King and Tuck rigidly enforced camp hygiene. Several times Judy had heard around campfires how things had been in bygone days, where more men died of disease than guns in battle. But since the High King’s arrival, medicine had steadily improved, hygiene improved and the men were a lot happier.

Some soldiers erected Judy’s tent, which told her that they were going to stay for a few days at least. Before dawn Tuck rode out with an escort of mounted infantry, to fetch Gamelin and his men.

Tuck returned with Gamelin just before High Sun and there was a minor bustle as they too set about making camp. Judy had smiled at Gamelin and he’d smiled back. Tazi giggled and Tanda had no expression on her face, but Judy thought she was probably laughing too.

After the noon meal, Tuck came to Judy. “Feel up to a council of war?”

“Sure.”

There were quite a few Hostigi officers, a dozen, ranging from Captain Leitnos, Captain Andromoth, Gamelin and Vosper to Tuck and the two “junior” captains with him. Tanda and Tazi were there, and then they walked to the end of the grove of trees, where a half dozen of the Ruthani, four much older men, and two younger ones were waiting. Chollo, one of Manistewa’s men, sat a little apart from either group.

Tuck was introduced to each of the Ruthani in turn and he greeted each of them with flowery praise. When the introductions were over, Tuck spoke to all of them. “I thank you on behalf of Count Errock, who speaks for the High King, for letting us use your grass and water. I will mention this to them and I am sure they will thank you themselves.”

“Are you here to take all that you see for the High King?” the old man known simply as Pinyon, asked.

“By now you should know that is not the High King’s way. He negotiates with sovereigns and comes to fair terms with them. Those others keep their way of doing things, their leaders, and above, all the lands they claim. The High King offers to be an honest broker in disputes between sovereigns about land, about precedence, about many things.

“When Count Errock was sent here, he talked to the elders of many villages. The land on top of the Barrier was not claimed by any. It is wetter than the desert, but the soil is much thinner and not very suitable for crops. However, the High King has farmers who can plow a field of rocks and bring in a crop.”

There were grunts of admiration from the Ruthani; evidently this wasn’t a surprise.

Tuck went on. “The High King, speaking through Count Errock, claimed a patch of ground atop the Barrier. No larger than a village the same size would need. They dammed a stream and made the lake they use to water their fields. They have done much to improve the land, as any careful man would.”

There were more nods.

“Now, enemies come. Enemies of yours, enemies of Count Errock, and enemies of the High King. The Zarthani and the Mexicotál, working together for the first time in all history. The time is dire indeed.”

The younger Ruthani that had talked the night before, Chandi, spoke up.

“If you go to the lands of the Mexicotál to make war upon them, I and the men of Mogdai village will join you!”

The old man hissed something and even Tuck smiled.

“I think your elder means that when you start to bargain, you don’t give away something at the beginning that someone would buy. Patience!” Tuck didn’t show any expression as the young man subsided.

“Still, as dire as the day, the High King foresaw that it would come and has prepared against it. This place is far from the lands of the High King, there are many of his enemies between him and us. But, even so, there are plans. The High King thinks about these things.

“Count Errock has told me to take the war to the Mexicotál, including invading their lands. We are as you see us. Less than a thousand men, a few more than a thousand horses. We brought fifty wagons of food, another fifty more of weapons and fireseed. We have a half dozen Hostigi field guns. There are other weapons as well.

“Still, as measured against the Mexicotál they are nothing.” There was a murmur from the Ruthani–it was true, and all knew it.

“I tell you true. I fought for another than the High King before I came here. Now I am banished here with four young women. I am oath bound to protect them. One of those young women is here, with us.”

Judy felt every eye turn on her. She sat still, unmoving, curious and intent on Tuck’s speech.

“Now I fight for the High King, in particular for Count Errock, who took us in and sheltered us. We have fought the enemies of the High King already. First, when we traveled north to tell Count Errock of the threat against them. Lieutenant Gamelin led the patrol that learned of the attack.” Tuck waved at Gamelin, who sat up straight.

“We fought them, we did. I failed in my duty to two of the young women: they fought Mexicotál armed only with knives, by themselves. One is here, the other assists the logistos at Outpost. The Mexicotál who attacked the girls are dead, by the hands of my students.”

Now Judy learned what a “deafening silence” was; everyone hung on Tuck’s every word.

“Lieutenant Gamelin found more than just me and those I was oath bound to protect. He found survivors from the village of Mogdai, villagers who had been captured by the Mexicotál. Those Mexicotál are all dead now.” Tuck waved at Tanda and Tazi. “These two, women of Mogdai, stood as their elders had done in the village and killed Mexicotál.”

“Count Errock was willing to listen to my war plans. He sent a trusted captain and thirty men with your village women, and my young assistant, Lady Judy, to raid the main camp of our enemies, Mexicotál and Zarthani combined. Fifteen thousand of them.

“I do not know how many we killed, but we killed many. Our captain was excited afterwards and fell, skinning his hand and bruising his knee. Another man put his blankets down in the dark without checking the ground and later rolled over and found a small cactus with his elbow.” There were laughs at that. Judy was sure that this wasn’t uncommon.

“We took a Mexicotál scout prisoner a moon quarter ago,” the old man, Pinyon, spoke. “He said one in eleven had been killed in the attack on their fort. More than six hundred of Styphon’s soldiers simply vanished from their camp around the fireseed store. Many of the other casualties were from fireseed weapons. Almost all of the Mexicotál killed and wounded were shot by men of their allies, the Zarthani.”

Tuck nodded. “Indeed so. We didn’t stop to count our dead enemies. At the time they seemed...overwrought.”

There was general laughter among those assembled.

“We went to raid them again, only to meet a thousand or more Zarthani skulking around in the night. We sent them back to their camp, their tails between their legs,” Tuck concluded.

Pinyon chuckled again. “You only sent three hundred and fifty back, the rest lay dead on the field, including their captain-general and all but one officer, captain and above. And he was wounded.” The old man looked at Tuck. “That captain has fought and lost to you twice now–he is the only son of the Zarthani king.”

Tuck nodded and was silent for a moment. “So, we are here now, to raid into the lands of the Mexicotál. I can’t tell you that men under my command haven’t been killed–they have been. But I can tell you that the men under me have killed many times their number and most are ready to kill still more of the Mexicotál.

“The High King is a generous man. In his name, Count Errock offers this: he will treat with elders of any and all villages and confirm them in their lands. The High King has never broken his word. Never. Count Errock has never broken his word. Never.

“Further, if some of your fighters would be willing to serve the High King, they may volunteer to fight under the High King’s banner. They will mainly be used as scouts or as skirmishers. They may choose their own leaders, with only one stipulation. Once a leader is chosen, the leader may not be set aside without the approval of the field commander. Right now, that is me. In addition, because of the laws of the High King, most of your fighters are not armed. The High King will supply a rifle, bayonet and all the fireseed and shot they will need to fire at our enemies. He would also equip such soldiers with such other equipment that common Hostigi soldiers are equipped with. The High King will pay such fighters as he pays his own soldiers.

“Further, the High King offers soldiers in his service the standard bonus upon completion of service: land, subject to the same conditions the High King places on all for that land. Some of the nobles the High King commands also offer their own rewards to those who serve; the High King’s offer is not affected by such rewards from others. The lands given away would be the ones we wrest from the Mexicotál or Zarthani.”

The men of the Ruthani sat staring at Tuck. Tuck smiled a cheerful grin. “I know you will want to talk about this among yourselves. Tonight, please, join us for dinner. It will be field rations, but different, I suspect, from what you are used to. After we eat, I will talk to you about my plans against the Mexicotál. Perhaps by this time tomorrow you would have come to a decision.”

When Tuck stood, so did everyone else. Pinyon bowed low. “And this place?”

“Count Errock says that he can not give up lands of the High King, not without consulting his liege. However, long ago he consulted with the High King about the lands of the Lost Ruthani. The High King has never claimed any land south of the Barrier. When Count Errock first started building Outpost, he told you that the High King laid a general claim to protect the lands atop the Barrier, then west to the Mud River, which is the edge of the Zarthani lands.

“Count Errock asks if you would consider the empty areas west of the Wen-rotos and north of the northern most village as unclaimed by all. That any other claims made by either the villages or the High King or Count Errock might be only done after first consulting the other parties.”

“The High King, as all know, is a fair man,” Pinyon told Tuck. “We will return later, to share your meal.”

The Ruthani vanished and Tuck’s officers returned to camp. Tuck looked around and said, “Wake me up in time for dinner!”

He took a few steps and leaned back against a tree, pulling his Stetson down over his eyes. Every one in the Hostigi party laughed. Still, Judy caught herself yawning. In spite of the growing heat of the day, she was tired. She’d been running on adrenaline, she thought, for quite a long time. A nap would be good...

II

Gamelin was mildly upset that he’d slept well last night while Tuck was making his forced march. He knew it was foolish and doubly foolish when he saw how tired Judy was.

He got with the junior logistos who had come with Tuck and discussed what they had brought with them. Gamelin was pretty sure that the Lost Ruthani were going to enlist in droves. Captain Andromoth asked him at one point what he was doing and Gamelin told him.

Andromoth nodded. “Continue that. I’m pretty sure that we’ll be distributing a lot of our equipment here, shortly.” The captain laughed. “Just remember that every rifle we issue is one we don’t have to carry south in our own wagons. The same thing with fireseed pouches and all of that. If we can clear a few wagons, we’ll see if we can buy more grain for our march.”

Gamelin did just that.

Late in the afternoon, Chollo appeared. “I understand you will be issuing equipment to any who enlist.”

“Evidently,” Gamelin told him. He still didn’t like the man, not at all.

“And the earlier weapons and fireseed?”

Gamelin looked Chollo in the eye. “I was told they were gifts to the Lost Ruthani. The High King doesn’t give with one hand and take back with the other.”

“So a man could have two rifles?”

Gamelin knew the answer to that. That was in the High King’s field regulations! “No. A man may carry his own pistols as he wishes. He may carry his own rifle or a rifle issued to him by the High King. The High King expects an issued rifle to be returned at the end of the soldier’s service. If a soldier has his own weapon, that is as may be. The logistos notes it, and the soldier keeps his weapon at the end of his service.”

Chollo grunted. “You say he, when you talk about soldiers. Tuck said fighters, soldiers...he never said they had to be men.”

“As they don’t. Most women want to stay at home and have babies. Some don’t. Those that enlist are as much soldiers and fighters of the High King as any other.”

“Hah!” Chollo exclaimed. “They are bad luck!”

Gamelin smiled and stepped close to the older, heavier man, putting his chest against the other man’s, making him back up. “You are a brave, brave man, Chollo! I’d count you braver if you said that to Tanda Havra’s face, but saying it to mine makes you brave. My company has had a hand in killing and wounding more than fifteen hundred of our enemies. Fifty to our one! I’ve lost six men, Chollo! Six! I had to turn away a hundred men who wanted to join my company!

“And if there’s a man in my company who hasn’t kidded me about my attentions to Lady Judy, why, I haven’t met him! Bad luck? You are a fool!”

“Women are to bed; to wed if you absolutely must!” Chollo replied, trying to regain his lost face. “They aren’t soldiers! They aren’t fighters!”

It was abrupt. One heartbeat Chollo had been standing talking to Gamelin, and the next Chollo was flying through the air. Tanda Havra pounced, her knife pressed against Chollo’s Adam’s apple.

There was a faint bead of blood where the point touched his skin. Tanda Havra leaned close into Chollo’s face. “And my name is what, big fighting man?”

“Tanda Havra.”

“Kills-from-Behind!” Tanda agreed. “You will want to remember it. Lady Judy killed a Mexicotál with a knife when he took her unawares from behind. Lady Elspeth did the same thing to another. Tell me, Chollo! How many Mexicotál have you killed with a knife?”

“I shoot them like dogs,” Chollo said, his voice bright and hard with anger.

“And how many have you shot like dogs?” Tanda sneered.

He was silent and she laughed nastily again. “You are a big liar and a bigger fool, Chollo! Go back to my uncle! Go now, right now! If you take one more step south with Lord Tuck, I’ll kill you the first chance I get! You won’t live the first night!”

Tanda bounced up and Chollo was up like a snake, a knife sweeping towards Tanda. She blocked his arm, rolled her hip and dumped him on the ground once again. She stomped on his wrist, making him let go of the knife. She kicked it contemptuously away, and then took a step back.

“Now would be a very good time to head north,” Tanda told him.

Chollo reached for a pistol in his belt, but stopped when Gamelin leaned close, a pistol of his own pressing against Chollo’s forehead. “Enough!” Gamelin took the other man’s pistol, before cautiously backing away. “Stand up!” he gestured with his weapon.

The other’s eyes were blazing with fury. Gamelin laughed. “Look to your left!” Chollo looked and saw Tuck, his rifle aimed right at Chollo. “And now, behind you.”

Chollo turned and saw a half dozen troopers holding their rifles at port arms, with Vosper to one side.

Tuck walked up, his rifle cradled in his arms. “Chollo, your boss, Manistewa, has given me sage advice, much valuable intelligence. That said, he didn’t do well when he sent you with us. Gather your things, see the logistos if you need any supplies. I don’t care where you go from here, but if you go south you’ll die. East is a good choice, then north. Outpost is under siege, but a clever man could get through. Or keep going east.”

“You can’t turn me out,” Chollo said, desperate.

“And you can’t draw a weapon in my camp on one of my soldiers. Right now I’m wearing my ‘friend of Manistewa’ hat. You really don’t want me to put on my ‘field commander’ hat because then I would decide you present an unacceptable risk and ask the Lost Ruthani to deal with you.”

Chollo raised his chin in defiance. “That, then.”

Tanda Havra laughed. “We are Northern Ruthani, Chollo. Tolerated. If Tuck asks them to deal with you, why, they will think they will be doing Tuck a favor by killing you.”

“I’ll leave,” Chollo said with bad grace. “I’ll talk to Manistewa and the others and...”

Gamelin almost didn’t see it, he wasn’t actually sure that he had seen it. Chollo had a very small pistol in his hand that somehow he’d palmed. He started to lift it, intending to shoot Tuck, but Tuck shot him first. Another bullet, from behind Gamelin, sounded very loud as it went past his ear. Chollo grunted, his pistol exploded and then Chollo took another shot from Tuck’s rifle and doubled over and died.

Gamelin turned and looked over his shoulder. One of Manistewa’s other guards had his rifle to his shoulder.

Tanda flicked her left hand at the dead man. “Stupid fool! You didn’t even manage to die well!” Gamelin could see the drops of blood fly. So, evidently did Tuck. Tuck went to Tanda instantly.

Tuck glanced at the trader’s guard who had fired, then turned to Tanda. She was telling Tuck it was just a scratch, but Tuck produced a field bandage to bind it. Tazi and Lady Judy came running up and Tazi took charge of tending to Tanda.

Gamelin could see that the tip of her left little finger was missing. Tanda smiled when both Lady Judy and Tazi exclaimed over it. “One less fingernail to bite, when I’m afraid, sister!”

Lady Judy stepped into a trap Gamelin would have, if he’d said what he felt. “I’ve never seen you afraid, Tanda Havra!”

“So, no loss, eh?” Tanda said with a laugh. Everyone within earshot laughed as well.

Tuck gestured to Gamelin. “Get a couple of your men. Take his rifle and pistols and give them to one of Manistewa’s guards. Then take his carcass near where we were talking earlier with the Ruthani. Wait for a few finger widths and when they come, give the body to them. I imagine they have a use for it.”

Gamelin bobbed his head and a moment later a corporal came with a stretcher and four men. Gamelin and Vosper walked away from the crowd around Tanda Havra, leading the troopers and their bloody burden.

Gamelin looked at Chollo as they put the stretcher down a few paces from where they’d met with the Ruthani elders earlier. Tuck’s first shot had hit Chollo in the right shoulder. The guard’s bullet had hit Chollo in the lower jaw. Evidently Chollo had turned slightly to face Tuck, because the wound was diagonally through his face. Not immediately fatal, either of the first two wounds. Tuck’s first probably not fatal at all, although the guard’s shot had doomed Chollo. Tuck’s last shot, though, had been straight into the heart.

Pinyon appeared after about a half palm width. He gestured at Chollo. “What?”

“He drew a weapon on a fellow soldier in camp. Not once, but twice. Captain Tuck killed him.”

“And Tanda Havra?” the old man asked.

“She lost the end of her left little finger,” Gamelin told him, wiggling the finger in question. “I do not think it is serious. She certainly doesn’t think it is.”

“And this?” Pinyon asked, indicating Chollo.

“He worked for Manistewa, the trader. But I don’t think Manistewa would like what he’s done. Captain Tuck told me to ask you to take care of him. Captain Tuck said he was sure you had a way to deal with him.”

Pinyon smiled. “You are Hostigi. Tell me, man of Hostigos, would you like to learn a secret of the Lost Ruthani?”

“Only if you wish to part with it freely.”

“Without fireseed weapons, we have only been able to oppose the Mexicotál and less often, the Zarthani, with bows and arrows. We’ve learned to make crossbows.”

Gamelin nodded, as he had been told that many times.

“We hate the Mexicotál in particular. Four hundred years ago our greatest Elder lived. He taught us a new ways to do things. We used to bind our dead and put them in high places, safe from scavengers. But time scavenges even so; after enough years their bodies were taken by the wind. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“We knew that and we thought it grand! To end your days as dust in the wind! Who knows where your spirit dust travels!

“But, we needed better soil for our crops. We had midden heaps, but they weren’t enough. We tried using night soil, but too often people would sicken and many died, eating food grown with it.

“The Great Elder told us to put our dead into special midden heaps. The women and children went into one, which was mixed with soil and eventually used to grow flowers. The men were put into a midden that we used to grow the vegetables and grain that feeds us. Our crops need to grow strong and tall! Like our men!”

Gamelin didn’t let any expression show on his face. This wouldn’t be a very popular idea in either the Trygath or the rest of Hostigos.

“Our enemies, though. We reserved for them a special midden. It is a deep pit, hollowed from rock. We put their bodies in there. We throw in the carcasses of snakes and scorpions, venomous spiders. We use night soil instead of dirt to make the compost. From it we get a loathsome, foul-smelling liquid. When we fought our enemies, we tipped our arrows with it. Even the merest scratch from one of our arrows killed our enemies.”

Gamelin mentally gulped. He’d never heard that! Had Count Errock? The High King?

Pinyon grimaced. “Tell me, why did Captain Tuck permit a weapon to be drawn twice?”

“At first it was hard words and knives between Tanda Havra and this one. She took his knife away from him and cut him. When he made to draw a pistol, many men aimed at him, including Captain Tuck. This man saw that they were ready and stopped and I took his pistol. He carried another, much smaller pistol. He pulled it and tried to aim it at Captain Tuck. Tuck fired first and last, another man, one of Manistewa’s guards, fired second. Tuck had already ordered him out of the camp. There was no way to stop this man without killing him.”

“I would not like to think Captain Tuck is soft.”

Gamelin shuddered. “No, Captain Tuck is not soft. He can run further than anyone except Tanda Havra and Tazi. He rides almost as well as I do.”

“I understand Tanda Havra nearly killed Lord Tuck, the first time they met.”

“He gave her a fight; I saw it with my own eyes. I don’t think she would have time to kill him before we would have killed her. But we called out the High King’s name and she stopped.” Gamelin laughed uneasily. “I don’t know many men Tanda Havra couldn’t kill.” Gamelin realized something, and smiled. “And of course, Tanda Havra came at Captain Tuck from in front.”

Pinyon nodded at that. “Not to worry, we will take care of this,” he indicated the dead man. “Tell Captain Tuck he was correct–we would prefer it if any dies, man or beast, that we dispose of the remains. We don’t want to attract predators or scavengers.”

“I will tell Captain Tuck,” Gamelin promised.

The old man stepped forward and clasped Gamelin’s arm in friendship. “We are not blind, Lieutenant. We know what you did for the villagers of Mogdai. The nights can be long here and we sing a very great deal. Already, you have a verse!”

Gamelin knew he was supposed to leave, but he had to ask. “Does Lady Judy have a verse?” The old man smiled but didn’t say yes or no.

They retraced their steps back to the camp and Gamelin reported what he’d been told to Tuck.

III

Tanda Havra looked at the bandage on her left hand and cursed. It itched. No matter how many times she tried to ignore it, it was distracting. She raged at the thought of Chollo having even the least, last laugh.

To bide her time she sought out the guard who’d fired at Chollo, his name was Xenos. “Thanks.”

“He violated the Paratime secret,” the Paracop said. “Manistewa is the big cheese, there isn’t supposed to be anyone else.”

“Tell me he wasn’t a Paracop.”

Xenos looked at her like she was crazy. “No, he was a holdover. One of the University Consortium guards. Just as crazy as the rest of them.”

Tanda coughed and he laughed and said, “No, you weren’t consortium, you are University of Dhergabar.”

Tanda looked at him, curious. “I’m a Paracop now, too.”

He blinked and shook his head. “No one told me.”

“Well, I’m telling you. Tuck and everyone are going to be hovering around me. There is no way I can get away and talk to Manistewa or even send him a message. Tonight, send a message ball and tell them what’s happened.”

Again Xenos shook his head. “I can’t do that. A supervisor could order it, but not someone from the University. There’s not much risk of discovery, but enough so that I just can’t do it on my own.”

“Well, I’m not only a Paracop, I’m a supervisory Paracop. Do it.”

He was stubborn. “Tanda, I can’t, okay? Look, I’ve been in the field for the few moons. I’d like a good meal, a good bath and a good cigar, not necessarily in that order. Most of my mates are off the map...which means the Mexicotál got them. That doesn’t hardly bear thinking about it, does it? I’m not about to risk a meal, a bath and cigar for someone from the University.”

“You understand that Chollo knew who I was, which is what helped push him over the edge? This is important. I don’t want to have to do a snap shot call to Mannie and tell him you’re an idiot. I’m out here, just like you. I’m not asking you to do anything but report what’s happened–you decide what’s important. We either work together or this is going to get really messed up. And since you’ve been in the field, they probably didn’t tell you who came to clean up the mess.”

“No, they wouldn’t. Which isn’t to say I can’t guess.”

“I’ve already talked to you too long and Tuck will ask me questions. We talked about where Chollo came from. A rival Northern Ruthani clan, other than that, you don’t know.”

“That makes sense.”

“If you can guess who was here to clean up the mess, guess who made me a Paracop.” Tanda turned and walked away, looking for Tuck.

Tuck, sure enough, pushed his hat back and got up when he saw her approach. “How’s the hand?”

“It itches. I can’t stand the thought of doing the smallest thing Chollo wanted me to do.”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s good. Scratching that itch isn’t good for you. Would you like to walk with me, tonight after supper?”

“No, I don’t want to walk with you, not just yet.”

“No, we need to talk.”

“There is nothing we need to talk about away from the others.”

“Tanda, I told you I have honorable intentions. You also told me my likely fate if I was stupid enough to try to force things. This isn’t that.”

“Well, this is good enough for me. I’m tired.”

He laughed at her, but since she’d been grinning when she said it, it was no surprise. One thing she knew for a certainty: in Hostigos women who didn’t want to sleep with their men pled they were tired. They never hinted at a headache. Such little things were vitally important in the field. And she was aware that almost all of the old impediments to even be able to think about such things were gone, removed. She hadn’t dared ask about it, for fear of being removed if it was a failure in her conditioning.

“If you want to talk about your uncle’s deepest secrets in open camp, well, that’s your choice. I was thinking that there is trading going on with the Mexicotál when there’s not an active war. And who would be most likely to trade with them? A trader. Who’s the biggest, most knowledgeable trader around? Manistewa.

“You really want me to go on?” he asked her.

“There’s no one within earshot.”

“There wasn’t anyone within earshot a bit ago when you were talking to one of your uncle’s guards.”

“He fired just after you did. Oddly enough, I appreciate people who try to save my life. I thanked him.”

“As I will thank him. As I will thank those who try to save my life, the girls...and yours. Of course, I noticed Gamelin rubbing his ear a heartbeat later, checking to make sure he still had it.”

“The guard hit his target and missed Gamelin. That was his object. I thanked him. I just wish I’d kept my hands down.”

“Good. I’ll thank him too.”

“It isn’t necessary.”

“Probably, but good practice anyway. Back to your uncle, then, if that’s your choice.”

“What about my uncle?”

“If your uncle trades with the Mexicotál, like as not he has someone down there who knows good places to go. Who knows who has goods and money that can be traded for. Perhaps he might have several such people.”

“Tuck, I swear to you, I know nothing about that part of my uncle’s business. I suspect you are right, though.”

“I don’t want to trip over your uncle’s trading secrets, I really don’t. But it would help to know if there were people there we could trust. People who know local customs, local information. Also, I’m sure your uncle would be obliged if we didn’t accidentally kill them.

“I’m going to be asking this same question of the Ruthani elders here. I have no idea what their reaction is going to be. But I need maps, and I need information about Mexicotál troop locations, strengths and all sorts of military information. I need information about roads, city locations and sizes, garrison sizes, patrol patterns. How they are armed.”

“I can ask my uncle’s guards, but I don’t know if they trust me that much.”

“Do your best,” he told her.

He dropped his voice a bit when he spoke next. “Judy did okay last night?”

“She was fine. She kept up and she did as I asked. She was calm and careful.”

“I was her age once,” Tuck told Tanda. “I don’t know if you were, but I suspect Tazi was. Sometimes it can be very hard to tell young people things they need to know.”

Tanda smiled at Tuck, reached out and patted his hand. “To her, you and I are her warrior heroes. You want to praise Judy? Tell her she did something as well as one or the other of us could. Be sparing of such praise, though!”

Tuck nodded, “Yes. It’s a good idea.”

“Right now, her biggest risk are her emotions. She likes Gamelin a great deal and it’s obvious he cares for her as well,” Tanda told Tuck. “But she knows that walking with him will end her hopes of a glorious future.”

Tuck was silent for a moment. “What an odd feeling,” he said eventually. “Here I am wishing Gamelin great success at seducing Judy and getting her pregnant.”

“Is that why you want me to walk with you?” Tanda asked, her voice suddenly angry.

Tuck reached out to pat her hand, but instead she avoided his move. “No. I want you because I want you. The High Queen was married to the High King and fought alongside him. I seriously doubt if they were chaste in the field together. And Count Verkan and his wife...he is a little older, I understand, so maybe he is past fathering a child or perhaps Lady Dalla is too old to be a mother.

“If you were to turn up pregnant tomorrow there would be nothing I could do for you. You could turn back if you wanted, but let’s face it: soon enough there are going to be Mexicotál scouts on our back trail. Stragglers or those who try to return will be at great risk.”

“You sound like you expect to survive,” Tanda told him. It wasn’t something she’d thought about often, but when she had thought about it, she was quite sure he was going to get them all killed in the end. No matter how good a person’s luck is, at some point the streak ends.

“You bet. And I don’t plan on leaving it to luck. That’s why I need contacts down there. It would be really cool if, before we went in, the local people knew the High King’s army was close by and what the High King was offering slaves and serfs. A town with open gates is much easier to enter than one with them closed and locked.”

“The Mexicotál soldiers control all of those towns. There will be no open gates.”

“Simple, basic strategy,” Tuck told her. “Attack an enemy where he feels like he can’t be attacked and you couldn’t win if you did. Attack the enemy at the logical time, because the enemy would assume the logical time is too obvious and you would set a trap. Except the trap is so obvious, they’ll just hang back a bit, to see how the attack develops before they commit. Every finger width they hang back, more of them die and the odds are better for us.”

She looked at him carefully. “You make it sound easy.”

“It won’t be. But that isn’t to say it can’t be done.”

“How would you take a city with a closed gate?”

“Fireseed has a way of opening gates.”

“And the thousands of Mexicotál soldiers on the walls?”

“It is a time of war. A good commander will have patrols out. We let one get well out of cannon shot of the town and then ambush it. We’ll destroy them. Probably we’d kill thirty to fifty men. Then we hightail it to the hills.”

“Hightail?”

“Go fast,” Tuck clarified.

“And then?”

“And then their boss, seeing a hundred fleeing Hostigi is going to call out a big chunk of his garrison and take off in pursuit. Odds are, they won’t be expecting another ambush against them. They come around a curve and meet a couple of hundred men and the field guns. Bang! We ruin their day.”

“There are still a thousand soldiers on the walls and the gates are still closed.”

“Then we put some mortar fire on one of the corners, well away from the gate we want open. In the middle of that, someone starts a fire or two inside the walls. Then they make a lot of noise.

“The guards will turn to look at what’s going on. That’s when the real attack comes, the eight hundred or so troopers who’ve been bellied down in the desert, waiting. We blow the guards on the wall off, rush the gate, and use fireseed to bust it, if it’s still closed.

“It would be nice if, about then, the locals decided that it would be a good time to declare for the High King. If the gate were to open and all of that.”

“Do you know what happens to Mexicotál serfs and slaves who rise against their masters?”

“They get killed.”

“They get killed, their wives and children are killed. Brothers and sisters, parents, in-laws, sometimes, if they are upset enough, aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. They have slaughtered everyone in a town a few times.”

“I know,” Tuck’s voice was hushed. “I know. After we take our first town we won’t be able to afford to lose or withdraw. My plan then is to avoid taking another town for a while. Instead, we’ll fight them in the field. We have enough rifles and fireseed to arm a thousand or so of the local people.”

“Most will never have seen a fireseed weapon. Most will never have held a weapon in their lives.”

“But from what I’ve heard, they won’t shed any tears about the Mexicotál soldiers and nobles, will they? They will have a choice to make. I can train them well enough, given a couple of moon quarters. Load, aim, and pull the trigger. I can show them how to march in column. They won’t be able to do anything beyond the simplest maneuvers, but I’ll try to be careful the first couple of times. Give them simple objectives, ones they can achieve if they stand steady. They kill Mexicotál soldiers and they will start thinking of themselves as ten feet tall.”

Tanda shook her head. “One defeat will end that it.”

“Like I said, I don’t want to lose any more than you do or they do.”

Tanda could only agree. Was there any real chance of success? Tuck sounded confident, and always, in the back of her mind was High King Kalvan. She’d been raised with superstitious fear of nature. Lightning and thunder, rain and snow. The stars and comets, tales of dark things that walked the night. The Paratimers had taught her better, so she didn’t believe in any of that when she’d come here.

The beliefs of the people of Mogdai were a little more sophisticated than those of her village, those of the Hostigi more sophisticated still. But how do you explain the High King? Even the Paratimers couldn’t explain him. And Tuck? He was the same sort of man. Competent. That’s what he was. Competent.

IV

Freidal lifted himself up from his bed and struggled to sit upright. Outside his tent the commotion settled down and a moment later, Xitki Quillan came through the entrance.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Xitki said quietly, his eyes boring deep into Freidal’s.

“It’s bad. It’s very bad.”

“Your wound?”

“That too. But worse are those damn fools of Styphon’s! They are madmen, Xitki! We should take and hang each and every one of them! Galzar Wolf’s Head spare me, but there have never been such stupid men!”

“What happened?”

“I reached the ridge top with about a thousand cavalry. We’d broken past their skirmishers and I could see a lot of activity down in the part of town here on the shore. I looked at that damn hill and decided that the cannon would take the road, while the rest of us rode straight down the hill.

“I hurried too much. I could see them putting out on the lake in rafts. Hundreds of men, armed and able to fight tomorrow! I ordered a charge.”

Freidal felt a wave of pain wash through him from his broken shoulder. After a few moments, he went on. “Most of us in the first wave went down. My horse died, tangled two more and killed them and one of their riders. My batman leads a charmed life! Tiki went down in the tangle, got up and tended to me.

“The rest of the men took their time and used the road. Most of the damn Hostigi escaped.

“I was getting things organized when that damned hell spawn from Styphon told the battery commander of our field guns to move up to a sandy spit that pointed right at Outpost. I didn’t hear about it until the first gun fired. The ball landed about two thirds of the way across the lake. Then the sky fell on those guns. A hundred pieces of Hostigi artillery fired at them. After that we had no guns, no horses, no nothing. Everything was gone and the gunners too.”

“It was a trap,” Xitki told him sadly. “The sand should have alerted him to it. This is a new lake, there are no beaches here. The Hostigi would have had to bring the sand from someplace else, to put it on the spit. It gave them a small target, one they could range on in advance, and the sand impeded the movement of the guns.”

“That wasn’t the only trap! I was furious, demanding to know who’d given the orders for the guns. I found out too late that the same bastard was haranguing the Mexicotál, calling them cowards. There were still two of the Hostigi large rafts left tied up along the shore, away from the fires. The bastard told Uxmal to load his men on the rafts and attack Outpost. A swift attack, he told the Mexicotál, would surprise the Hostigi and prepare a breach for the rest of the army to follow through.”

“The rest of the army is still two palm widths away,” Xitki said, trying to stifle his own rage. “The rafts were a trap?”

“They had been deliberately left away from the fires. The Mexicotál loaded two hundred men on each raft and pushed out into the lake. The rafts had sweeps to propel them.

“Except by the time they reached half way all of the sweeps had broken–the Hostigi had sabotaged them. Then the Hostigi guns fired a volley. One heartbeat there were four hundred brave men screaming defiance at their enemies. Then the water frothed and seethed for a dozen heartbeats. When it was over all that remained were a few wooden slivers. None of those men survived, not a one.”

“Great Galzar! We lost nearly six hundred men?”

“Yes. And that’s when it got really, really bad. The Styphon’s priest told their Mexicotál high priest that his men had been cowards and fools. That’s when the Mexicotál cut the living heart out of Styphon’s Arch Fool.”

Freidal could feel the fever biting, but he had to finish telling Xitki what had passed. “The captain of Styphon’s Temple Guards was there. He’d been helping move fireseed wagons to support the field guns when the guns were destroyed. He took a wood splinter in the arm. When the Mexicotál killed his archpriest he turned his back on the fool and told his men to sit down.”

“He mutinied?” Xitki was stunned.

“Yes, he mutinied and his men mutinied and there are no longer any priests of Styphon in the camp. The Mexicotál hacked the heads from Styphon’s priests and are using them as balls in that game they play, where they hit balls with sticks. Except they are using heads...Galzar knows, the priests of Styphon had no balls.”

Xitki smiled slightly. “Is that it?”

“Yes. You’d better send a galloper back to your column and tell any of Styphon’s priests that still live to flee for their lives. In this camp, they won’t live a finger width.”

“Your wound?”

“I broke my shoulder. I think the wound has already turned septic.” Freidal paused. “You and I both know I’m a dead man.”

Xitki cursed and leaped forward, pushing the dressing on Freidal’s shoulder aside. “Damn!” the older man said. “Galzar damn Styphon’s entire host to the very depths of hell!”

Freidal felt Xitki ease him down on the cot. It was the last thing Freidal remembered clearly for days.

Then there was a time where he would wake at odd times, the sun never in the same place twice. The world seemed to bob and weave, never staying still. He was never awake for long and could remember nothing more than if it was light or dark.

Once though, he opened his eyes and the room snapped into focus. He was in a tent, still. A man was sitting a few feet away, grinding something. “Water!” Freidal croaked and the man was up at once, fetching a small container of water.

He was cruel, he was, letting Freidal take only small sips, not the greedy gulps he so very much wanted. Refreshed, Freidal sank back on his pillow. He looked at the man caring for him and tried a whistle. Oddly, it almost worked. “You.”

Durel, once the High Priest of Dralm in the Zarthani City States, later the most wanted outlaw in the Kingdom, smiled back Freidal.

“Me!” the priest agreed with a laugh.

“How?”

“Later, Freidal. Now I must send someone for Xitki. Rest boy.”

Freidal lay back, while the other went to the tent flap and softly called.

It didn’t take long and Xitki Quillan came and sat next to his cot. “A demotion, Count?” Freidal said, seeing Xitki in the uniform of a private.

“The Hostigi spy on our camp. They watch where the officers go and then at night, they shell their tents.”

“Move further back from the lake,” Freidal said, trying to understand how Xitki Quillan of all people could be so dense.

“The Hostigi have a fell weapon, Freidal. A cannon they can pick up and carry. There are a dozen of these cannon with small parties in the hills. They approach after nightfall and somehow, they know where to shoot. We’re all privates now. No man dares to sport a plume.”

“Freidal is it?” Freidal asked. “Am I no longer a prince?”

Xitki Quillan nodded his head. “I’m sorry, Freidal, but you are no longer a prince.”

“Because I was wounded? Because I almost died?”

“No. Because when word of what happened here reached Baytown, Styphon’s scum poisoned your father. I’m sorry, Freidal, but he’s dead. Your sister, Alros, lives and is safe.” Xitki laid his hand on Freidal’s. “No priest of Styphon is alive that we know of, not anywhere in our lands.”

Freidal sighed. “I seem to have slept for a very long time, Xitki.”

“Almost a moon, sire.”

Freidal gulped.

Xitki Quillan spoke quietly. “I command in your name. Most know you were wounded, but none know how bad. It is death for two officers to meet in the open and talk. I have to slouch when I walk, because a man with an erect posture is a target as well.”

“Surely you can suppress the Hostigi patrols!”

“If I send a patrol strong enough to overwhelm the Hostigi, they never see them. Patrols not so strong have a tendency not to return. We hear firing in the distance, but when we respond, all we can do is bury our dead. We’ve lost half the men, sire.”

“The road? Surely after a moon supplies and men are flowing?”

“It is hard to stop the Hostigi. They attacked the road first, sire. We might as well have never built the damn thing. They attack it at night. They drop their damn shells even in broad daylight, but at night they are at their worst. They have cat’s eyes, that see in utter blackness!”

“Surely you counter patrol!”

“Like I said, a patrol strong enough to survive a Hostigi ambush never sees them. Weaker patrols die. Not all of them, but enough.”

“And Outpost?” Freidal asked.

“They sit on their island and we sit here. We can’t approach and except for their armies in the field, they can’t hurt us.” That was said with a very bitter laugh.

“And the Mexicotál? What of their road?”

“They say it progresses steadily northwards, but they have had to pull laborers from the work there to support their road being built towards Xiphlon. As soon as you feel up to it, we’ll talk to our allies.”

“And Styphon? Their fireseed mills?”

“Your father was taken sick after a meal. Alros ordered his taster questioned. The man died before they touched him. She asked other questions of other people and learned of the plot of Styphon’s. They killed your father; they thought you were dead or dying. They wanted Alros on the throne, to be their puppet.” Xitki looked at him.

“Never, ever, attack a woman during her moon blood! Alros didn’t hesitate, nor did she ask for advice. The taster bragged that Styphon had bought him...then he choked and died. So your sister killed all of the Styphoni she could lay her hands on. Loyal soldiers of the Crown attacked the four fireseed mills and Styphon’s Great Temple in Baytown.” Xitki sniffed.

“One of them, just one of all of Styphon’s priests, tried to destroy a mill. One of his fellow priests killed him to save his own life. The rest surrendered to save their miserable lives. As Kalvan did, so has Alros. She had them stand in the main square of Baytown and proclaim their apostasy. The few who refused were shot from cannon at South Fort. There weren’t many.”

Freidal sank back on the cot. “I’m sorry, Lord Quillan. Truly. I...” and he was asleep again.

He missed seeing Xitki Quillan pat him on his good shoulder and speak softly, “No need to apologize. If you fall, we all die.”

Freidal woke later and it was night. Durel was still with him, mixing potions and poultices. Freidal asked him why he was with the army of men who’d called him traitor.

“In case of need, sire,” he was told. “So far, mostly you have gotten everyone killed.”

“Not me.”

“And you brought how many hale back from your patrols?”

Freidal was silent, thinking. “Tell me, Durel. What have you been doing since you left Baytown?”

“Why, I went to confer with my fellow priests. Honestly put, sire, we conspired against the Great Plan. Mostly we conspired against Styphon and all that Styphon stood for.”

“And now?”

“Now, sire? Now, I see a glimmer of hope. You already know Styphon and Styphon’s works. The blinders have gone from your eyes. The next thing you need to learn is what the High King teaches.

“The High King teaches that all men, noble and peasant, are equal under the law. Sovereign, noble, merchant, artisan and peasant, serf and slave. That no man, woman or child should be held in bondage against their will. That no one should be judged except by his peers. Tell me, sire, what is your issue with any of those things?”

“That isn’t how things are done, Durel. That isn’t how we live.”

“Do you know what the High King ordered to be done, and was done, in the event you attacked him?”

Freidal shook his head.

“The High King announced that all slaves and serfs of the Kingdom could report to an officer of the High King, take an oath and then they could serve the High King. He said that fighters, men or women, would then be eligible for all that the High King gives his soldiers. Six hundred paces of land. Weapons, equipment...above all, land. Land that would be confiscated from the King of Zarthan. If they didn’t wish to serve, they were free.”

Freidal felt the energy drain from him. “And?”

“And? The people await the news of the fighting. So far, they haven’t heard anything, because Xitki told everyone he’d kill the first person who spread the news.”

“We invest Outpost.”

“Half of you invest Outpost. The other half are dead. A few more victories such as you’ve achieved thus far and none of you will survive the march home.”

“Leave me!” Freidal commanded.

“Sire, I need to dress your wound. It must be done. You are still not safe.”

“No, it doesn’t sound much like it.”

“You, sire. Not the kingdom. Alros is levelheaded and, perhaps, already ambitious. This would not be a good time to make a mistake.”

“Do what you must, then leave!” Freidal commanded.

Later, Freidal spent much time in thought. Alros was sixteen, a headstrong woman, a tomboy who had repeatedly and loudly stated her admiration for the High Queen and Lady Dalla. Alros had kept silent about the Great Plan, but it hadn’t been hard to figure out her silence was contempt.

Freidal slept.

His dreams that night were awful. A man, the High King, Freidal was sure, was lying on the ground in front of him. Freidal would stride forward, pin the man to the ground with his mailed foot, then Freidal would place his sword against his enemy’s throat...and then he would announce his surrender to his fallen adversary.

It made no sense. There was no logic to the dream. But it was very disquieting because no matter what he did, the dream repeated, again and again.


	21. Going All the Way

I

Tanda Havra scanned the desert ahead of them. Night would fall soon and once again they would be on the move. She was about fifty feet below the crest of a ridge, lying in a crevice in the rocks, using Tuck’s glasses to watch for any movement at all out on desert floor. A few feet away Tazi slumbered peacefully, a smile on her face.

This was going to be their longest night march so far, almost forty miles. They would be leaving as soon as it was full dark and would probably have to hurry the last few miles, and those last few miles would be uphill. Still, they would then be on the other side of the ridge from the town that was their target.

She couldn’t fault Tuck’s caution. The main force still had two more days of marching ahead of them just to reach where she was now. Then they would have to march to the ridge line she could see dimly in the distance. There they would be south of their target and would rest for a day and a half before the attack. Almost, but not quite, a full moon quarter. Compared to Tuck’s attacks before, almost lethargic.

Having the help of Lost Ruthani from the redoubt was making a great deal of difference. Even though she couldn’t see a single sign of movement out there in the desert, two dozen of Pinyon’s scouts were in position. As soon as it was dark, another dozen men would move south and half of those deployed would be returning, to give Tuck specific information.

They had good maps of the area around the Mexicotál town that sat between the forks of two small rivers. Some rivers! One was already dry and the other would be in a few moon quarters. The town had wells and irrigation canals that would move some water around. And one of Manistewa’s guards, Xenos, had made contact with Manistewa’s agents inside the town. Xipototec, the Mexicotál called the town.

It had taken a great feat of talking by Tuck to get the Lost Ruthani to agree to his plan. What they wanted was the town burned and the bones of people dumped in tall piles for all to see. Tuck had patiently made them recognize that most of those who lived in Xipototec were like so many of those that had come to the Lost Ruthani: oppressed and helpless against the priests, nobles, and soldiers of the God-King.

The realization of that truth had raised Tuck’s stock with the Lost Ruthani a great deal. The scouts reported that there were about twenty-five hundred Mexicotál soldiers in the town of about twenty-five thousand. Parties of farm workers would go into the fields each day, each escorted by a company of cavalry. If someone tried to flee, they were ridden down and captured, then skinned alive and left for the buzzards and the ants. If the person who ran had family, all of them went to feed the gods the next Feast Day...those were held every moon quarter.

And if someone snuck away, avoiding the guards? Everyone in their family died as soon as the person was reporting missing. They were either tortured terribly, publicly, including the newborn, or they climbed the pyramid.

In spite of the dire punishments there had been volunteers aplenty willing to help the Hostigi soldiers. They might have been terribly oppressed, but the people of Xipototec could still talk amongst themselves. And they must have talked a lot about life among the Ruthani.

Tanda hadn’t told Tuck about it yet, but tomorrow she would reach the town. Tomorrow evening, just before the town’s gates closed, they would sneak her inside and a few days later, just in time for Tuck’s attack, she’d come out again. Tazi also would be left behind. Tazi was a proud young woman, who walked with her head held high, able to look any man in the face as forthrightly as any other would. She would be spotted and killed almost at once.

Tanda didn’t like walking with her head bowed. She didn’t like avoiding the gaze of those who oppressed these people. But if by doing so, she could work for their downfall...she was more than willing to do what had to be done.

Tuck coughed and she looked up. “You’re slipping, Tanda Havra!”

She bobbed her head. A few moon quarters ago she would have lied. There were enough lies between them, most of which she could do nothing about. So, about little things, she told the truth.

“Xenos, my uncle’s guard, is going to take me close to Xipototec tonight. I’ll meet one of my uncle’s agents and talk to him. Xenos will tell him who I am and that I command him.”

“Obliging fellow, this Xenos,” Tuck commented.

“Manistewa gave me a letter telling him I was in charge.”

“I notice your uncle keeps out of the line of fire as much as possible,” Tuck observed.

“There are many reasons I never considered his entreaties, and why he never tried to force the issue.”

Tuck nudged Tazi with his foot. She woke up at once. “Tazi, please watch for what little time remains. I need to talk with Tanda Havra about tomorrow.”

Tazi was only too happy to take the glasses from Tanda. She was fascinated by them, and had spent some time talking with Tuck about how they worked. The last time they’d been in Outpost, she’d found some broken glass and had played with the pieces, watching how the glass affected the way the light moved through it.

Tanda followed Tuck over the ridge. He moved quickly back towards the scout camp, stopping a few hundred feet away. There were at a level place in the wash when he stopped. “I will draw a line in the sand,” Tuck told her. “I want you a step back from it. When I tell you to, step forward, putting your foot in the middle of the line, then walk naturally for ten steps, then stand still until I come up.”

Mystified, Tanda did as she was told. She stopped and a heartbeat later Tuck also took ten steps and finished about a foot in front of her. “Once again, only this time with your eyes closed,” he said, dropping a rock where she’d stopped.

She did it again, her eyes closed. Tuck was watching, she was sure. But, when it came time for him to come, he too walked with his eyes closed. They ended up in almost the same relative positions as before.

“Your steps are two inches shorter than mine,” he told her. “I have a natural thirty-three inch stride, that makes you a thirty-one.”

Tanda shrugged, not understanding.

“When you are in Xipototec, see if you can step off some distances–even an approximation will help us register mortar shells.”

“Ah!” she exclaimed. She gave him a sidelong glance. “I did not want to worry you unnecessarily.”

“We’re here, a long way from home. Forget about trying to save me from worry. I worry every day in every way about all of us. A little worry more or less isn’t going to matter.”

A few feet away a couple of doves suddenly flew up from a bush. Tanda turned to look, sure someone was sneaking up on her. Then, almost on the edge of her hearing, there was a low roar as the ground began to shake. It wasn’t a hard shaking, and it wasn’t for very long but she found it profoundly disturbing.

“Earthquake, I guess,” Tuck said. “I’ve never been in one before.”

The word he used sounded like Zarthani, and the syllables made sense, but the whole word she didn’t recognize. “ _Ertbeben_?”

“Shake,” he said. “The ground shakes.”

“Why?” Tanda asked.

She listened to his explanation patiently, but patently disbelieving him. The ground had cracks, and sure she’d seen those. But cracks that ran for miles along the ground? Deep into the ground? She’d never seen that! How could anyone see that deep?

Before Tuck had finished explaining to her, he was explaining it to everyone. After about a half palm width he threw up his hands. “You will have to trust me. It happens. It happens more often as you go south. You might as well get used to it. Do you know about mountains that spit fire?”

No one knew about mountains that spit fire, either. Finally Tuck told everyone to stop talking and get the camp ready to go. Men hurried to the task, and shortly it was dark enough to leave.

Tazi was not happy when she was told that she could not go with Tanda. It was Lady Judy who finally calmed Tazi down a little, whispering something to her that Tanda couldn’t hear. Tazi’s eyes dwelled on Tanda, angry. “Do not set me aside, sister, because you fear for my safety.”

“I do not. What I fear is that you will be Tazi: a girl who walks with her head held high, proud and unafraid. To come with me you will need to walk stooped, your eyes on the ground, bowing to every man you meet.”

“Lady Judy says that if I’m patient, one day I will know as much as you. But that if I’m not, I will never be as old as you.”

Tanda nodded. “Please, sister Tazi. I would take you with me if I could. I will try to return before the attack, and you will go into battle at my side. I promise you that.”

“I will do as you bid, sister Tanda.”

Much later, out in the desert, Xenos stopped for a break. “Xenos, do you know of earthquakes and mountains that spit fire?”

“Yes, of course.”

It took some additional questions before she had to admit Tuck was right. “The Earth is round, I knew that,” Tanda mused. “I never thought to ask about these other things.”

Xenos glanced at her. “Tanda, you know we don’t tell people like you everything. You don’t know beans about chemistry, physics, biology, and geology–nothing technical. If you had wanted to study something technical instead of anthropology, right now you’d be cleaning some Home Time Line toilet.”

It was a cold, brutal thing to think about. “Look, the chief and Manistewa told me that you’re the boss. You’re in charge. I have less than six moons experience in the field here. I don’t know much about the terrain, the people or the issues. The chief said that since you already know the Paratime Secret, what was the point of keeping you from knowing anything else?”

He glanced at her. “And where we’re headed, they have earthquakes often and volcanoes erupting every couple of years. You’d find out anyway.”

“And I will do what I have to do. But Xenos, understand this. I’ve been well taught and well conditioned. But not everybody is. Someone brought Tuck and his young women here. It wasn’t any licensed conveyor. Someone is out here, right now, breaking all of your laws save one. Tell me, Xenos, do you think they’ve broken that one last law?”

“I imagine the thought gives the chief nightmares.”

“I imagine it does. It gives me nightmares, too.”

They started running again.

II

Freidal watched as the council chamber filled up. Once, a few moons ago, there had been a pretense about who he was. He’d sat along one side of the table, near the middle, the only captain at a table filled with high nobles, priests and generals.

Now he was seated squarely at one end, Xitki Quillan on his left. Straight down the table were seated the Mexicotál High Priest and Captain-General Uxmal. There were no longer any pretenses.

The Mexicotál general spoke first, after Quillan called the council into session.

“We should tear down the dam and drain the lake. When the lake is empty, we should attack the Hostigi!”

Freidal nodded. “We have discussed this plan several times, Quillan and I, while I recovered.

“We have lost the least leg of support for our undertaking–Styphon. I know not what Hells there are for a god of such foul deeds. I shudder to think of his punishment at the hands of the True Gods. Further, one man in two of the army we had here to fight is dead or unfit. The Hostigi mount daily attacks against the Great Road and troops that should have come to our reinforcement have been held back to defend our supply route. In truth, if they were to arrive here in any number, we would all starve.

“Once, we could have planned a night attack. It would have been a tricky thing to do and the empty lakebed a dangerous place in the dark. But the Hostigi have checked us there as well because we’ve seen their fires that float in the sky. Night would not cloak us and to try to cross a mile of ground that broken, under artillery firing case shot...our losses just reaching the base of Outpost’s walls would be terrible. Perhaps enough to cause the attack to fail before we could launch the actual assault on the town. We would only have one chance.

“And then, there is something else to consider. We are here, facing an enemy a fraction of our number. They are behind a lake, behind stout walls and defended by cannon and rifles. Taking this place by storm would cost any army dearly. What about next season? It should be clear that the Great Plan is dead. Even if we win here, this will be as far as we can go in force this year. We would spend the rest of the season chasing down the Hostigi raiding parties, patrolling eastwards to see what we face there, and bringing up supplies and men that should have already been here.

“You, our fine allies, are running out of scouts. Yours are better than ours and our enemies know this. They attack them again and again. It’s hurt the morale of all of the scouts and more than decimated their ranks.

“Thus, we should stop and think about what we do here. We can go no further this year. We must chase down the Hostigi raiders and we can do that just as well or better, with our troops spread out along the Great Road. Strong patrols have been sent out towards the east and more will be as time passes.

“So...here we sit. And here they sit. Early on, Count Quillan called a parley and offered the Hostigi fair terms. That was more than a moon ago. Count Errock said no. What might he say today? We should ask again for his surrender. And if he says no, why we will let him sit on his rock in the middle of his puddle. Perhaps they will be able to eat rocks before we finish with them. Certainly if we wait long enough, they will be hungry enough to!

“If we capture the city intact, we will be able to use it ourselves. Destroy it by storm and it will be just another pile of rocks in a landscape filled with piles of rocks.”

There was a low murmur down the table as Freidal’s comments were digested.

“You sound as though the decision has been made,” the Mexicotál captain-general stated, his face angry. “Why then, have you not consulted with your allies?”

“We’re here, talking about what we are going to do,” Freidal said equitably. “I offered a plan. If we desire to storm Outpost, first we would need a few days to pull down the dam.”

“Fireseed would bring it down quickly!”

“Fireseed, while not in short supply, is not in great supply,” Freidal told him. “I would prefer to use what we have on our enemies, not rocks.”

Freidal looked at the man steadily and when he didn’t say anything more, went on with his thoughts. “Suppose we pull down the dam? We know the Hostigi have snipers out, and they shoot anyone who goes near the dam. We would lose some men, no matter how carefully we go about pulling down the dam and even if we use fireseed, it would take several days to properly place it.

“Once the lake was drained we would need to examine the ground, to see what lies under what is now hidden by the water, to find the best route of attack. Scouts out in the open would suffer greatly from Hostigi marksmen, unless they work carefully at night. Which will take more time. Perhaps in a two moons, we would be ready to attack.

“And the attack...I’ve already described it. Another option would be to build rafts and make a mass assault across the lake against the Hostigi. Except any man who falls off a raft would be just as dead as if he stopped a Hostigi bullet with his head.

“It is my belief that for now, we must study the situation and look for an opening that we can use to our advantage,” Freidal concluded. “Then, when the time is right, perhaps when we have more men and fireseed up, we can make the attack. There is no need to rush...we’ve rushed enough already and paid in full measure for our error.”

Their high priest spoke for the first time. “It is, as you say, that such things require some study, and I, for one, do not care to report another failure to the God-King. Yes, parley with them–it is true that they might surrender.”

Freidal smiled slightly. “And we can hint that an attack is in the offing, that we’re giving them a final chance to seek terms, thus they lose sleep, wondering what our plans are.”

“And in your plans, Freidal, King of Zarthan, is there a plan for you to return to Baytown?”

“I considered it,” Freidal told him. “But no, I won’t return for now. Not until we take Outpost. I am, however, going to be a lot more careful.”

The next morning a messenger went across to Outpost, under a flag of truce. Then the messenger returned with a resounding “No!” from Count Errock.

Freidal sat fuming. There was simply no way he could cross the lake, walk up the hill and be fit for anything more than taking a long nap when he reached Count Errock's citadel. The alternative was to have the meeting on the rocks at the base of the walls, which wouldn’t be conducive for a comfortable negotiation. He wouldn’t last very long there, either. The best thing would be for Count Errock to come to them. Evidently, the count didn’t trust them.

It was enough to make a man see red. Why couldn’t they be reasonable?

It was a like a light shone down on him from the sky! Reasonable for whom?

“Xitki, I need four strong men to bear me down to the lake.”

“You can’t do it, sire. You can’t swim; they could take you; if you get sick again, you’ll die.”

“Xitki, I have always deferred to you. Always. Even in the plan to attack Outpost, if you’d have said no, we’d still be sitting in that damn fort.”

“You’re saying this is a first?” Xitki asked.

“Yes.”

Xitki laughed. “I told you, Alros likes being regent. You go and get yourself killed and she will blow you a kiss. You are my King, and I and all here, are at your command.”

“Well, I’m not totally stupid. If I offer you up as a hostage, will you go?”

“I’d rather be whispering in your ear, but yes.”

“I’m also going to offer up one of the Mexicotál. I thought I’d surprise them.”

“Better to simply tell them before you go. They understand hostages. They don’t understand something they might construe as betrayal.”

Freidal grimaced. There was always that!

He commanded and four strong men came to bear him down to the lake and the boat waiting for him. When he reached the shore, the Mexicotál high priest was waiting for him.

Freidal nodded to the priest as regally as he could. “I go to treat with the Hostigi, to get them to come here. Who shall go among the Hostigi as a hostage? You or your captain-general?”

The high priest laughed. “You think I’m a coward, like those of Styphon! I will go if they will also accept one of my captains as well. That or the captain-general alone. If there is anything to be learned of their military preparations, I am not skilled enough to know what is important.”

“Xitki Quillan will also be offered.”

“In that case, I will go.”

Freidal nodded. It was, he thought, fairly clear that the Mexicotál still trusted Xitki. Had there ever been a choice?

Two men rowed him across the lake. A Hostigi lieutenant and two troopers stood at the landing waiting for them. “What now?” the lieutenant demanded.

“Run up your hill and tell Count Errock that the King of Zarthan wants to talk to him.”

The lieutenant gestured upwards. “I told them before, I’ll tell you again. Count Errock will not come to you.”

Freidal turned to one of the other Hostigi troopers, the one who looked older and more intelligent. “You, run up the hill and tell Count Errock that the King of Zarthan begs his indulgence and has come this far. Surely he can come down the hill. I’ll be brief.”

The trooper looked at the lieutenant who was sputtering with rage. The trooper bobbed his head, turned and jogged away, heedless of instruction from his superior.

One of the rowers growled, “We should teach them a lesson!”

Freidal chuckled. “Feel free. There are several thousand of them and one of you. I’m sure you’re good enough to kill one, maybe two of them before they kill you, and then kill the rest of us. You wouldn’t want to think about what happens to you if I survive.”

The man subsided.

A finger width later a tall man, older, came down the hill and stood a few feet from Freidal. “I am Count Errock.”

“And I am Freidal. Recently a Captain of Cavalry and now sitting on my father’s throne.”

A girl appeared, another officer walking next to her. Freidal ignored them.

Count Errock bobbed his head. “As we’ve said for a very, very long time. The true Gods would spew up such a monster as Styphon. Now you have full knowledge of the perfidy of the priests of the False God. Your father might have been our enemy, but no man deserves to be killed by poisonous, back-stabbing vermin like the maggots of Styphon.”

“I have fought in three battles against your men, Count. I was shot twice in the head and the third time I fell off my horse. I am not well. Please, I will give you hostages. Count Xitki Quillan and the high priest of the Mexicotál God-King, but I entreat you: come across the lake to talk to me at length.”

Count Errock paused and it was the young woman who spoke. “He does look like shit, Count.”

Freidal was startled, never imagining a woman would talk in a meeting like this, never imagining such a frank comment.

Count Errock turned towards her. Not just craned around to admonish a foolish subordinate who’d spoken out of turn, but actually turned his back on Freidal. “Lady Elspeth, while what you say is true, it is impolitic to notice and less so to mention it.”

She shrugged. “I'm just telling you what I see. You asked for my opinion.”

Count Errock turned back to Freidal. “I will come and the Lady Elspeth will accompany me, as soon as your hostages have landed. I make no promises or assurances, beyond that we will not attack your camp while we are there. Our raiding parties have their own plans and even if I knew them, I wouldn’t interfere.”

“The hostages will be here tomorrow a palm width past first light. You will order them to be returned as soon as you put out to return.”

“That is acceptable. The High King has never broken a truce and, if I did in his name, I’d be dead.”

“And you have my word,” Freidal replied.

“Until tomorrow then,” Count Errock told him. “If I were you, sir, I’d get some rest.”

The count turned his back on Freidal again and walked away, with the others following him.

On the row back Freidal watched the two rowers. About halfway across the lake he smiled at them. “Just remember one thing, you men.” They looked at him, but didn’t stop rowing.

“I was there and I’m not going to talk about the little things. Were I to hear any of the little details...any details at all before I announce them, you both die. Am I clear?”

The one oarsman, the one who hadn’t spoken before, chuckled. “Would you be killing us before Count Quillan had his way with us or after? Before would be a blessing.”

Freidal didn’t speak again, trying not to laugh.

In the morning he bid Quillan goodbye. In theory, since he was planning no treachery and the High King had, so far as anyone knew, never planned any either, Xitki was quite safe. But accidents happened...

Xitki had ordered a small pavilion to be erected just past the water’s edge and Freidal waited there for Count Errock. Once again it was the count, the girl and a lieutenant. Freidal had no idea why a girl, a young girl, would accompany a noble to a meeting like this. In Zarthan it wouldn’t be done. Even though Alros was regent, she wouldn’t be involved in a direct parley, not on a battlefield.

“Once again,” Freidal said, wanting to get the preliminaries over with quickly, “we offer you terms. You may take your personal weapons, such supplies as you can carry and march east. You would not harm the city in any fashion. I would send along hostages so that you could be assured there would be no trickery.”

“We have a simpler demand,” the girl said. “You get on your horses or into your wheelbarrow and march back west. We’ll be right behind. Tarry returning to your lands and we’ll kill you all.”

There were a dozen spectators in the tent, and all gasped when the girl spoke, then again at her words.

“Wheelbarrow?” Freidal asked, not sure he understood. The girl had an accent that he couldn’t place.

“A wheeled cart small enough for a single man to be moved around in,” the girl explained. “The one for you.”

Freidal racked his brain. In many parleys he’d read about, insults had been traded. None, though, quite like this.

Freidal turned to the count. “Count Errock, I invited you here to have serious discussions about the future. You are surrounded and cut off. It would be a special miracle if the High King could reach here next season–more likely the season after next. Assuming we don’t stomp him flat beforehand. If I give the order to attack the city...there will be no survivors.”

“I’m sure your widows would grieve for their losses,” the girl spoke again.

Freidal pointed at her. “Unless you are Count Errock, hold your tongue!”

Count Errock spoke for the first time. “I’m sure your widows would grieve for their losses.”

Freidal wanted to tear out his hair. By repeating verbatim what the girl had said, the count had all but told him directly that the girl spoke for him! It was impossible!

Count Errock nodded at the girl, smiled at her and bobbed his head. “Lady Elspeth speaks for me,” confirming what Freidal had deduced. Count Errock looked at Freidal steadily. “You should know that Lady Elspeth is pregnant by rape. One of my officers decided that didn’t matter and offered to marry her. Alas, you killed him the day of your first attack on Outpost.”

“We found the damn Mexicotál road, finally,” Lady Elspeth told Freidal, ignoring Count Errock’s words.

It was, Freidal told himself, not that impossible, but didn’t make sense. His sister Alros was regent, and she was about this girl’s age. He ran his mind over the peerage of the High King. There was no one of this age and a woman anywhere close to being able to command Count Errock! No one!

Count Errock smiled slightly. “Some have said Lady Elspeth is the High King’s sister. Except she says she is an only child. Others have said she is the High King’s kinsman, but she avers that she’d have noticed a High King among her relations. However, I myself know she’s Dralm sent and Galzar taught.” Count Errock nodded at the Mexicotál general.

“A Mexicotál scout took her unawares from behind. She gutted him with a knife. Even now, her mentor leads my field forces.”

The smile vanished, “King Freidal, take yourself away from here. Take your army away from here, or you will all die here.”

“We outnumber you,” Freidal remonstrated.

It was Lady Elspeth who replied for Count Errock, “Your dead outnumber us, too. Who’s next?”

Freidal spoke the terms one last time. “Once again, I will give you leave to march away with your weapons, food, supplies, all that you can carry. We will never attack your column, Oath to Galzar. All of this will be undertaken with Oaths to Galzar.”

“Galzar Wolf’s Head never sat well with Styphon, and Styphon has not always honored Oaths to Galzar,” Count Errock responded.

“The House of Styphon no longer exists,” Freidal told him. “As I’m sure you well know.”

“I know. The question is, what do you know, King? You’ve learned the importance of roads. Tell me, you know where your road ends. Perhaps you even know where the God-King’s road ends. But do you have any idea that the High King has been building roads since he came to power?”

“You won’t surrender?” Freidal asked, not wanting to get into all of these side issues.

“Not going to happen,” Lady Elspeth replied.

Freidal looked Count Errock in the eye. “How am I supposed to treat with you, when you let a girl speak for you?”

The count smiled slightly. “I told her that the first time she said something I didn’t like, she’d have to stop. Before he died, my logistos told me she was an ideal junior officer: when you tell her to do something, she asks questions about what you mean if she’s not sure, then goes and does it.

“I have no complaints about her actions so far, even if she’s asked me no questions.”

Freidal was back to wanting to tear his hair out. “You would let the assistant to a dead logistos speak for you at a council of war with the King of Zarthan?”

“It’s the words, King, that are important,” Count Errock told him. “Not who utters them. I speak for the High King, you recognize that?”

Freidal nodded. Not a problem! He could understand that!

“And Lady Elspeth speaks for me.”

“You are doing this to make me look stupid!” Freidal said, and then immediately regretted it.

More so when the Lady Elspeth spoke again. “For that, you need no help.”

Freidal once again turned to Count Errock, realizing only belatedly that the whole thing had been to exhaust and tire him into making a mistake. “The woman doesn’t know her place. Go back to Outpost. We will come, soon enough.”

Count Errock smiled thinly. “I told you once that a Mexicotál soldier took her from behind, intending rape. She killed him with her knife. She is, King, a woman any man would be content to have at his side.”

Count Errock rose. “You have it as clear and as plain spoken as I could have conveyed the message. No flowers or honey, just the plain words from someone who understands what happens if you win. Henceforth, King Freidal, the only reason I will treat with you is to accept your surrender.”

“You have women and children inside the city!” Freidal responded in return. “Would you have that on your hands?”

“You march all this way, lay siege to my walls and then tell me it will be my responsibility that innocents are killed if my city falls to your attack? King, I thought better of you!”

With that they turned and walked back to their boat, and were rowed across the lake. Just as they landed, Xitki Quillan returned.

“It didn’t go well,” Freidal told Quillan, and then explained in detail.

At the end, Xitki sat, looking steadily at Freidal. “There were some important lessons. I hope you learned them.”

“That we don’t speak the same language, even though we each understand each other’s words!”

Xitki shook his head. “You were told many things, Freidal. Many things. You must learn to listen to the words behind the words. It wasn’t as if Count Errock was trying to be obscure.”

Xitki turned the Mexicotál general. “The girl reported that they finally found your road. Where is your road? Exactly?”

The captain-general turned to the high priest who nodded. “A map, King Freidal.” A map was fetched, and then the man put his finger on where their road was. It was very far to the south.

Freidal’s face turned stony. “That is–well behind schedule.”

“As you’ve noted,” Captain-General Uxmal said dryly, “many things are behind schedule.”

“And the road to Xiphlon?” Xitki asked. “Is it on schedule or behind?”

“Behind. The Hostigi have opposed our advance with many skirmishers. It has been very difficult to protect the construction crews. That has been the problem in the east. Here in the west, even though it has been a relatively wet spring, the desert takes its toll on the workers.”

“And the earlier reports that your road wasn’t far south of the fort? I take it those reports were...overly optimistic?” Freidal asked.

“They were lies,” the high priest said bluntly. “We tried to catch up, but the desert has been a deadly enemy. Now we face the Ruthani. They are worse.”

“We destroyed the Ruthani,” Freidal told him. “You reported that to me yourself.”

“We destroyed their villages. Most of the villagers had fled into the desert.”

Xitki spoke again. “When I first arrived, I sent scouts out to report on Hostigi movements. They told me that a large group, more than a thousand, had moved southeast. You told me they were likely heading for the Hostigi towns further east.”

“We don’t actually know,” the captain-general told them. “Their tracks went far to the southeast. We haven’t been able to follow them, because our scouts are killed.”

“Send more,” Freidal told him bluntly.

The captain-general sighed. “We know the Lost Ruthani have a refuge there, someplace. We’ve sought it for a very long time. If we send enough men to be safe, we don’t see any of them. If we don’t send enough men, we don’t see our men, ever again. As you well know, as your scouts face the same problem as ours.”

Freidal cursed. “You are saying that someplace to the southeast is a citadel, another one, of our enemies? And that a thousand Hostigi have gone there?”

“More than a thousand,” Quillan reminded him. “Plus, we found tracks of many hundred more, heading west from Outpost, before we attacked. Those are the parties raiding our road. Probably the thousand going south are to attack the Mexicotál road.”

The general shook his head. “We guard the road well. There have been no attacks, except isolated sniping from Ruthani.”

Freidal tried not to let his fatigue show. Instead, he turned to Xitki. “Let us think on this until tomorrow. Maybe it will make more sense then.” It was a thin ruse and undoubtedly would fool no one. But nothing better presented itself.

III

Judy listened as Tuck explained the final details of the plan. She’d known the overall outline for some time, and she had been curious about her own role in what was about to happen. She was quite sure she was going to be very far from Tuck’s side.

“So, what happens is that right after sunup, about thirty cavalry will emerge from the gate on a patrol down to the river, then out to the fields. They check them out, then move further north, along the road towards Outpost, returning in time for lunch.

“Not tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, as soon as the last man is outside the gate, Lieutenant Gamelin’s company will take them under fire. They will be bunched up, coming out of the town’s gate. As a precaution, they only open one leaf to let the cavalry through. The soldiers go about a hundred yards, then wait until everyone’s out, before proceeding.” Tuck nodded at Gamelin. “Your signal to open fire is when that gate starts to close. They are fairly well disciplined and the last men will have just gone through. Make sure your people shoot straight! Three volleys, then mount up and ride!

“When you leave, be sure to spread out! The guns from the town will open fire. Rumor has it that the guns are ready-loaded with grape shot and aimed inwards against their own people. Which means that if you’re quick, you will be out of grape range before they can swing their guns around. To shoot at you then they will have to pull the loads and put in balls. Being spread out means that you will be at small risk from balls. If you ride fast, you won’t be at much risk at all.”

Gamelin nodded.

“Once you are beyond long cannon shot, concentrate again and continue east, towards the mountains. Captain Andromoth will be there, lying in wait with the field guns. Captain, you will have scouts out, watching for Gamelin and his men.”

“We will!” the captain told Tuck. “There will be no mistakes!”

“Gamelin, once up to our guns, you know your positions. Take them and if they have a vanguard or point, engage them. Be sure they can see your lathered horses.”

Gamelin nodded. “Yes, Captain!”

It was a great plan, a glorious plan, Judy had heard that over and over from Gamelin. Judy was also aware that Gamelin was going to be going first against the Mexicotál. If anything went wildly wrong, Gamelin and his men would take the brunt of it. It was impossible, though, not to understand that Gamelin thought Gamelin’s men had the least risk of any of them, in Tuck’s entire plan.

Complicated plans, Tuck had told her, had a way of breaking down. On the other hand, complicated plans confused the hell out of the bad guys, because they couldn’t figure out what was going to happen next. A conundrum, Tuck called it. The trick, he’d gone on to say, was to make a plan where one thing followed another. Where there didn’t have to be complicated signals or timing.

Gamelin had sixty troopers in his company now. Each trooper was armed with a rifle and two pistols. They would fire from cover at the Mexicotál with their rifles as the Mexicotál cavalry came out of the town, then two volleys from their pistols. Rifle volleys were supposed to be the most deadly, but another one hundred and twenty pistol balls flying against the thirty Mexicotál weren’t going to be good for the Mexicotál. Most of the thirty men were going to be dead or wounded, and the survivors, dismounted.

Then Gamelin and his men would climb up onto their horses and ride like the wind until they were out of range of the cannon. Then, out of range, slow down to a walk to tease the Mexicotál.

The Mexicotál could, everyone said, count to sixty. They would assemble a party and give chase. Five hundred at the least, more likely a thousand. Captain Andromoth was going to be waiting with his guns hidden, but Gamelin would be in view, several hundred yards in front of the Mexicotál. The Mexicotál forces chasing Gamelin, seeing their prey, would assume they were going to fight and would charge headlong.

Captain Andromoth had three hundred men and six field guns. They would fire as soon as the Mexicotál looked like they were ready to charge. It was thought that the shock of the initial volley would freeze them in place for a few heartbeats, giving the Hostigi gunners sufficient time to reload. The field guns could, Tuck told Judy, fire almost as often as a rifleman. Everything was going to depend on whether or not the artillerymen could do their job while under fire from the Mexicotál. And just to make sure that they could, the three hundred Hostigos Western Mounted Infantry guarding the guns would fire a hundred shots per volley, starting a four count after the first cannon salvo. In theory, the cannons would fire a second time on the heels of the last rifle volley.

A dozen doses of case shot, Tuck told Judy, plus seven hundred and twenty rounds of rifle fire from the infantry, all in a narrow canyon, were going to wreck the initial charge. Mexicotál troops, the Ruthani told them, were not used to fighting against fireseed weapons. They tended to break and run.

In spite of the seriousness of that battle, it was still a sideshow to the main event. Tuck and just less than seven hundred men, mixed Hostigos regulars and Ruthani, would be laying in the fields, out of sight. They wouldn’t fire when the initial Mexicotál patrol appeared. They wouldn’t fire when the Mexicotál mounted their response to Gamelin’s attack.

They would wait until the Mexicotál vanished into the entrance to the mountain valley, six miles away from the town. Once the Mexicotál soldiers were no longer visible, a mortar would fire a single round, an illumination round. It would do no direct damage, not during the morning hours, but it was a signal.

Tanda Havra was in the town as were several of the Ruthani. A commotion would occur, and the field workers were going to sit down and refuse to go out. Some time in there, a few buildings would start to burn.

As soon as Tuck saw the smoke, that would be his signal. The mortars were to fire two rounds at one of the corner towers of the town. As the first of those rounds exploded, soldiers would be up and running for the town’s gate and the walls to either side of the gate. Fireseed would be placed by the front gate, and then exploded as soon as possible. That was when the mortars would lay in their first serious salvo, just inside the gate.

All of the Hostigi and some of the Ruthani would then charge through the gate.

The theory, so Tuck had told Judy, was that the Mexicotál would have balls in their big cannon and the cannon would all be at maximum elevation. To shoot, they’d have to lower the guns and that took time. The men would be well dispersed until they were close enough that the guns on the walls couldn’t bear on them, and then they’d fight through the gates and take the town, hopefully with the people rising up in support.

Tuck finished going over the plan. He turned to Judy and Tazi, sitting next to each other. Judy braced herself, wondering just what her part was to be. “You two stay close to me, you’ll be runners, going where needed to pass on orders.”

That was it. There were a few questions in the next finger width, before the troops began to move out. It was dark and the thin crescent moon wouldn’t come up for hours. Two palm widths later the last of them were in position. The night was pleasant, the sky a glorious wash of stars that Judy had grown used to, and more spectacular than anything she’d known at home.

A palm width before dawn the word was passed to wake up. There was remarkably little noise; of course every man with Tuck’s force knew what would happen if they were discovered prematurely: the attack would fail and the chance would be lost forever.

As Judy had already found, when there were things to do, waiting was easier. Just sitting in the desert, Tuck’s pistol in its holster around her waist, a Hostigi rifle in her hands, was much harder than she would have imagined.

After a slow eternity, she could hear the sounds of the Mexicotál getting ready to open the town gate. Evidently there were heavy bars to move first, then loud creaking and squealing from rusty hinges as one of the two main doors swung open.

“They do things by rote,” Tuck had said last night. “They follow good practice because that’s all they’ve ever done. I doubt if they think about it. There are a couple of places in their daily routine where they’ve cut corners. One of those things is that they don’t relock the gate–they just shut it again. They don’t relock the gate until evening.”

As hard as it was to be still, waiting was so much harder! What would happen next would be ten times as hard. The sergeants were to enforce the rule: no one was to stick his head up to see what was going on. Tuck, and only Tuck, was to watch how Gamelin did. All Judy could do was stay on the ground a few feet from Tuck, her fingers crossed and pray for Gamelin’s safety.

They were in a dry ditch two hundred yards from the walls of the town, hidden only slightly by corn that was knee high. She closed her eyes and once again wished Gamelin well, hoping that he would be careful.

IV

Gamelin kept his head up, steadily watching through the rows of corn as the Mexicotál soldiers emerged from the town. The Ruthani had built his position the evening before. It was a hollow space only slightly longer than he was. He was lying full length just inside the corn field, covered with a web of sticks and dirt that were supposed to be invisible to anyone more than a few steps away.

His mouth was dry, but he was as ready as he could make himself. When the Mexicotál cavalry first began to emerge, he’d pulled the sergeant’s whistle out from where it had been tucked in his tunic and put it in his mouth. Vosper and the rest of his men were in a dry wash a few feet away, a dozen Ruthani acting as horse holders a little further away.

All he had to do was blow three pips on the whistle loud enough for all of his men to hear. The first pip was the command to stand up, the second was the command to take aim, and the third pip was the signal to fire. He was supposed to leave two heartbeats between the first and second pip, then one long heartbeat before the third.

He concentrated on what he had to do, waiting for the leaf of the main gate to start to close.

Twenty-eight men, he counted as they came out and the gate started to close. He gave it a few extra heartbeats, as the Mexicotál were clumping closer together. He blew the three notes as hard as he could, more focused on doing something right than he’d ever been before.

His part, save but one, was now done. The third pip had brought a mind-shattering slam as sixty rifles fired as one. He was so proud, so very proud of his troopers! No other troop could have fired so tight a volley! It was just a solid slam of noise, and the Mexicotál had no time to do more than widen their eyes in shock. 

Rifles were slung over men’s backs, and then their first pistols came up. This volley was a little less solid, a two count and then came the final volley.

The final volley was Gamelin’s signal to stand and dash for the wash. There were only a half dozen Mexicotál still mounted after the first volley, the second volley knocked down all but one. The man’s horse either spooked or he was insane; he came right towards where Gamelin was lying.

Half a dozen pistols ripped the man from the saddle, while the remainder again flayed the Mexicotál now heaped in front of the gates.

Gamelin was up and running, only intent on the lip of the wash and getting over it. A bullet whined off a rock behind him and he ignored it. He ignored two rifle shots from in front of him. They were supposed to be getting on their horses!

He dropped out of sight of the town. There had been only the one shot, the sum total of the Mexicotál response to his attack.

He swung up on Hellfire. There were no signals for this part. Everyone knew where they were to go and Vosper and another sergeant would be leading the charge. Gamelin’s job was to bring up the rear, to make sure there were no stragglers.

They thundered down the wash, around the turn and then up a low spot in the wall and into the fields of young corn. There were a spattering of shots, but his men were now three hundred yards from the town, moving at an angle across their front, running at a full gallop.

There was a thunderous boom behind him. Off a quarter of a mile to Gamelin’s right, closer, actually to Tuck’s men than his, grape shot lashed a huge swath of corn. Gamelin just leaned down closer to his horse, making himself as small a target as he could.

The mad gallop lasted more than a mile. A dozen cannon shots had been fired, but they had simply been gunners clearing the grape shot they had loaded in the quickest fashion they knew. The first ball didn’t come until they were well out range.

The dash slowed and Gamelin ranged up alongside Vosper. “All went well!” Gamelin said, feeling wildly exhilarated.

“All went well! Did you see that! We knocked them flat! Only one gate guard returned fire and he paid for it!”

They were then more than two and a half miles from the town, moving at a trot, straight for where the pass in the hills ahead of them came out.

“I’ll get the men into a column of fours, Lieutenant,” Vosper told him.

Gamelin glanced over his shoulder. As yet nothing was happening at the town. “No, let them think we’re a bunch of wild Ruthani.”

Manistewa’s guard sergeant, the one who’d shot Chollo, laughed. “If the Ruthani could shoot like that, the Mexicotál would have already known it!”

The comment passed up and down the column, producing grins and what was becoming the private sign of those men who’d fought with Tuck: a jaunty thumb’s up.

They were nearly to the foot of the mountains when a mirror ahead of them flashed three times. That was the sign that the Mexicotál were finally coming out. They didn’t slow or make any sign, but instead, kept steadily on.

The ambush location was a mile from the plains, where the road turned to the left, and another wash came from the right. Captain Andromoth had placed the field guns along the left fork, well screened, while his men were placed in the rocks that were everywhere. Gamelin and his men formed up at the opening to the right in easy view of anyone who was chasing them.

Captain Andromoth came up to Gamelin. “Did it go well?”

Gamelin could only nod. It was so glorious! Vosper spoke for him. “They got exactly one shot off, Captain!”

“I heard cannon fire.”

Gamelin laughed. “Their first was closer to Tuck than to us! It was all clearing their guns. Right now those guns are at maximum elevation, loaded with ball!”

Captain Andromoth smiled. “Lord Tuck is a genius, simply a genius!” He gestured to where horses were being led back, out of the line of fire. “If we do our part this will be a battle they will be singing praises about for a thousand years! As brilliant a victory as Tarr-Dombra!”

Two Ruthani came down from the ridge and reported to the Captain. “Eight hundred, we count,” the head scout reported. “They are riding at a slow trot. They will be here in a fat palm width.”

“Do they have a point?”

The Ruthani sniffed in derision. “No. Why? This is their land, what do they have to fear?” He thumped his chest. “We will be ready!”

Gamelin went and found a solid rock and placed his powder and shot in a convenient place. He looked back down the road towards where the Mexicotál would soon come. Be safe, Lady Judy! Be safe, Lord Tuck!

Tuck had said once that eventually all of the idiots fighting against Hostigos would be dead; that hadn’t happened yet.

When the Mexicotál commander leading the cavalry saw Gamelin and his men, saw they were ready to fight, he swung his sword over his head in a grand arc, then lowered it, pointing right at Gamelin. The Mexicotál broke into a gallop and that was the signal for Gamelin’s men to return to the cover they’d picked out earlier.

The slam of the cannon in the narrow canyon was deafening. Each field gun fired a hundred lead balls, from guns that had a perfect field of fire, slightly enfilading the onrushing Mexicotál. Hundreds of horses and men went down, and then the volleys of rifle fire commenced.

It didn’t take long before fireseed smoke obscured the ravine. Pips from Captain Andromoth’s whistle brought a cease-fire. There was no return fire, only the screams of wounded horses and men, lost in the billowing clouds of fireseed smoke.

Slowly the smoke blew away, revealing the worst carnage imaginable. Small parties of Hostigi riflemen began to probe forward, but they found only death and ruin, and more than a hundred wounded Mexicotál soldiers. Then the Ruthani were among the wounded and there were no wounded Mexicotál.

Captain Andromoth was stunned. That wasn’t Galzar’s Way!

Words, however, didn’t sway the Ruthani at all. In fact, they mostly laughed.

Then, it became apparent that they had been too successful. The plan was for their force to come out of the mountains and support Tuck, if he needed it. Except there was no way to move the field guns or supply wagons forward, because mounds of Mexicotál dead blocked the road.

The Ruthani were assigned to start clearing the road, while the rest of the column, horse-mounted only, went forward.

Before they reached the open, one of the Ruthani scouts returned. “Captain, Lord Tuck has the town. The survivors from this battle are forted up, about two miles to the southwest, along the river.”

They climbed a slight rise and looked at the town across the desert. Signals were flashing back and forth. One of the signalmen turned to Captain Andromoth. “We have the town, the garrison has been slaughtered by the people. However, Captain Tuck reports that the main gate is fouled and can’t be closed.”

Captain Andromoth looked surprised. “He was supposed to blow up the gates.”

“The Mexicotál sallied just as he attacked. Captain Tuck caught them as they tried to come out the gate. They say when the Mexicotál tried to withdraw, was when the people rose up.”

“How many Mexicotál are forted up, out in the corn fields?” Captain Andromoth asked.

“The Ruthani say, maybe two hundred. The Mexicotál have some wounded as well, so it’s hard to be sure exactly how many of them there are.”

One of the Ruthani came running up. “Captain, the Mexicotál are moving!”

They all craned to look. In the distance, the two hundred or so survivors were forming a column and heading southwest, paralleling the river.

“They will follow the river for a few days, then cut back a little to the east,” the Ruthani told them. “In two moon quarters they will be in Huspai, the capital of the regime, a hundred and fifty miles due south of Xipototec. We should pursue and destroy them.”

Gamelin looked at Captain Andromoth. In times gone by, the Ruthani wouldn’t have had to ask, they’d already be getting in motion. On the other hand, Captain Tuck had told them that they were not to pursue any Mexicotál who broke off the fight and fled the field.

“No,” Andromoth commanded. “Follow them, and keep them in sight. Report back on their movements. Do not engage.”

The Ruthani sniffed in derision.

The captain pulled his pistol and leveled it at the man. “Let me make this very clear. You will follow them. You will not engage or harass them in any fashion.”

“You are too soft, Hostigi!”

“Think on one thing, just one thing!” Captain Andromoth reminded the Ruthani. “Never once, not in thousands of years, have you and yours taken a Mexicotál town. Never. And now, Lord Tuck has. He has plans, Lord Tuck does. I don’t understand them; I don’t pretend to understand them. But I have two eyes to see with and a brain to understand what I see: thousands of dead Mexicotál. We have two dead and eight wounded.”

The signalman broke in. “Captain Tuck says they have seven dead and fifteen wounded in the town.”

“So, we have destroyed thousands of Mexicotál, taken one of their towns in exchange for a handful of men. Right now Lord Tuck treats with the Ruthani as equals. Start doing as you please and that will stop.

“There is your future,” the captain said, gesturing at the town surrounded by green fields, “if you are allies of the High King and Lord Tuck. This,” he waved at the desert around them, “is your future without us. Now get your asses going after them and keep in touch. Above all, let them go.”

It was, Gamelin thought, as clear as could be. Green fields of new corn surrounded the town. The fighting would have caused some damage, but it was early enough in the growing season. More corn could be planted.

The Ruthani turned on his heel without a word and loped into the desert.

Gamelin turned to Captain Andromoth. “You keep saying, ‘Lord Tuck.’”

The captain shrugged. “It didn’t start with me. All of the men call him that.”

“When we found them in the desert–before we returned to Outpost–the men of my company started calling him Lord Tuck as well,” Gamelin admitted. “Then Count Errock appointed him captain and that changed.”

“It changed for you and I, but I don’t think it ever changed for the men.”

Gamelin contemplated that and as he did Captain Andromoth clapped him on the shoulder. “My father is a baron and he is called Lord. I have three older brothers in line for the title, but the old man seems to spite them by being alive and hale, even though my oldest brother’s eldest son’s wife is about to drop her second whelp.”

Or, Gamelin thought, no big deal. A war with Zarthan and the Mexicotál was going to produce thousands of new barons, counts, and dukes. All entitled to the appellation: Lord.

“Come,” Captain Andromoth told him. “We need to get that road clear and make sure our guns are safe and where Lord Tuck wants before nightfall. You get on down to Lord Tuck and tell him what happened here.”

Gamelin looked at the sun, standing straight overhead. Tuck had taken the town in a morning. A town as well defended as Outpost. They’d cut through the defenders like a knife swirling water. In his wildest dreams, he would have fought one of Tuck’s battles and done as well. Except he wouldn’t have known how to do it.

Gamelin walked over to Hellfire and climbed up. “Sergeant Vosper, mount the men!”


	22. Disaster

I

Judy’s eyes were fixed on Tuck, as he in turn was watching Gamelin’s part in the battle. “They are away,” Tuck said. “Clean away, no opposition. I don’t think they took any casualties.”

Judy breathed a sign of relief then that changed when Tuck spoke loudly, “Down!”

Everyone hunkered down lower, and then came an extremely large “boom” from the town. Tuck looked to his left and grimaced. “Big gun! It knocked down about an acre of corn. Gamelin is out of danger.”

Judy breathed another silent prayer of relief.

Then it was back to waiting. The morning wore on, the temperature steadily increased, making the waiting all the more difficult. In the distance came the sound of cannon, then, not as loud, the slam of rifle fire. The sound was steady for about finger width, and then the rate of fire slacked off considerably.

Tuck kept his attention on the town and Judy kept waiting for Tuck to signal the attack.

The sound of the distant firing had stopped before Tuck waved and one mortar fired an illumination round. It burst over the center of town, drifting slowly down. It was a bright spot in the daytime, leaving a trail of dark gray smoke as it descended. It went out several hundred feet in the air, the small parachute unaware and uncaring that the flare no longer burned.

There was a sudden creak as the gates started to open. Tuck popped his head up, looked for a long heartbeat, then was back down. “Pass the word, we will engage the troops exiting the town. A ten count on the volleys. The first volley to come when I open fire.”

The command passed swiftly through the force waiting. Tuck peeked again, a few heartbeats later. He came back down, grinned at Judy and Tazi. “It’s going to be noisy for a finger width...keep your heads down.”

“What’s happening?” Judy asked.

“There’s a big bunch aiming to come out the main gate, probably intending to see what all the shooting was about. A couple of hundred of them it looks like. If we hit them right, they won’t be able to close the gate.”

He had been, Judy noticed, counting to himself, even as he talked to her. He popped up again, firing a single shot from his rifle.

Two hundred rifles spoke an instant later, and then the mortars added their weight to the volley.

There was a long, long count, before the next rifle volley, ten heartbeats. Rifles were going off from the town, bullets could be heard going overhead, others slammed into rocks and ricocheted noisily. Another mortar volley, a little ahead of the rifles. Then came the second rifle volley.

The number of bullets going by had become awesome. Every heartbeat or so, Judy could hear one go overhead. Tuck was a few feet away, looking at her.

A few feet away, the third rank rose to fire, and a trooper was hit in the throat, collapsing like an empty bag. That volley fired as well.

Tuck popped up, fired two shots and was back down. He turned to Judy. “Go over to the left. Tell Captain Mnestreus to watch out. They’ll be firing grape shot here in a few heartbeats. Keep down!”

Judy ran, crouching down, along the line of the ditch. Several more times bullets whizzed overhead. She delivered her message to Captain Mnestreus, who grunted when he heard it.

“Down!” the captain called and his men knelt.

Bullets had been bad. What passed over their heads was beyond bad. Imagine a million angry hornets. Imagine more ricochets than you could willingly face. It was like that and more.

“Up!” the captain commanded and men were up, resuming the volleys.

“Tell Captain Tuck the Mexicotál here are pulling back. I’m going to advance after the next cannon salvo.”

She bobbed her head and ran back to Tuck’s position. When she sank down next to him he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Remind me next time,” he told her, “to pick a shorter messenger.”

Judy looked at him, confused.

He smiled. “You are drawing a lot of attention from the guards on the walls. They have enough elevation to see you and have been shooting at you. Fortunately, they are lousy shots.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Like I said, they’re lousy shots.”

“Captain Mnestreus says he’s going to advance after the next cannon salvo.”

Tuck reached out and touched Judy’s cheek. “Don’t take this personally, but Tazi is head and shoulders shorter than you.”

He turned to Tazi. “Run and tell Captain Mnestreus to hold up until commanded to advance.” Tuck pointed at Tazi and then yelled, “And keep your head down!”

Tazi nodded and she too ran along the line, hunched down in a crouch. It didn’t seem to Judy that anyone was shooting at her.

Tuck touched her shoulder. “Listen.”

Judy listened, not sure what she was supposed to pay attention to. There was a lot less firing from the town than there had been a few moments before. And there was a sound like distant surf. She looked at Tuck.

“At a guess, the people of Xipototec have decided which side they want to go with,” he told her.

Tuck called down the line, “Cease fire! Cease fire!”

With the cessation of firing, it was clear that what firing there was, was within the town. Not on the walls, but inside the town, but there wasn’t much of it. The surf sound was now clearer, the sound of thousands of voices raised in anger.

Tuck looked at Judy. “Do you know what happened in France after the revolution? In Russia after theirs?”

Judy shook her head.

“It wasn’t pretty,” Tuck told her. “The people had suffered long and hard. They had a lot of grievances and they paid the nobles back a thousand times over. It won’t be pretty, what we’ll see inside there. Don’t let it throw you.”

Tuck stood then and stretched, his eyes intent on the town. Judy frowned. “Can I stand up?”

“Sure, why not? Might as well stretch.”

She rose up and looked at the town. She’d seen it several times before now, now it was very different. There was a mound of dead men and horses a few feet from the gate. Then, in the gate area itself, the mounds were much higher. Her eyes went to a signal mirror flashing on the wall. Tazi had returned and now stood next to Judy, looking around.

Tazi walked over to Tuck, stared at him for a long time, then leaned close and kissed him on each cheek. Then she bowed her head to him.

Tazi’s people, Judy thought, have been murdered for a long time by the Mexicotál. Her mother, her father. Who knew how many others? Tazi looked up at Tuck. “I would go to my sister.”

Tuck bobbed his head. “It won’t be safe, but yes.”

More and more Hostigi heads were up, looking at the town. Tuck called out, “It’s ours, lads! Don’t go shooting any of our allies!”

There was laughter, a release of the tension that all had felt. A few heartbeats later, the cheers started.

Judy had a hard time understanding the cheers at first, until she realized the first word they were saying was “Lord” and not “Captain.” Shouts started from the walls as well. The same words, with another accent.

Tuck climbed out of the ditch, and Judy was up a fraction of a second later to walk by his side. Ahead of them, Tazi passed into the town, while Tuck led a procession of Hostigi towards the gate.

Halfway there, Tuck turned to Judy and spoke in English. “You will never guess why the Romans believed that a successful general, returning home to a celebration, should have a slave whispering in his ear, ‘You are but a man.’”

“Because it would be very easy to get used to this,” Judy replied.

“Exactly. Judy, please don’t let me get used to this.”

“Well, we could change what’s whispered in your ear,” she told him. She paused for effect, then whispered, “Your shit stinks!”

Tuck rocked with laughter. “I should wash your mouth out with soap!”

“Just trying to help!”

He could only grin, and then he walked faster, when he saw Tanda Havra on top of the wall, waving to him, signing him to hurry.

Judy glanced over her shoulder to the mountains, so distant. I hope you are okay, Gamelin. It would really wreck things if you’re not.

When they reached the top of the wall, Tanda was looking off towards the mountains. She turned to Tuck. “Captain Andromoth destroyed the Mexicotál who pursued Lieutenant Gamelin. He reports two dead and a few wounded.”

Tuck bobbed his head. “And what are the good captain’s intentions?”

A signalman spoke up. “Lord Tuck, Captain Andromoth reports that the road is too obstructed to move his guns forward. He’s sending some of his men up, but the guns and wagons can’t move as yet. He’s sending Lieutenant Gamelin forward with his company and he will come as fast as possible with the rest when the way is clear.”

When a group of horsemen emerged from the mountains, Tuck studied them. “Mexicotál, but just a few hundred. It looks like Captain Andromoth really knocked the stuffing out of them.”

Judy had been aware that Tanda was speaking with a tall man, wearing just a few feathers and not much else. There wasn’t anything left to the imagination, Judy thought.

Tanda came back to Tuck. “You are in luck, Captain Tuck.”

“I’m in luck?”

“Yes. This is Vertax, an agent of Manistewa’s here in the town. He was the captain of the God-King’s scouts based here. He reports that three days ago a wagon caravan arrived from the south. They camped here in town, because the road north isn’t finished and they were afraid of an attack. More than a hundred wagons, nearly a thousand horses...wagons filled with fireseed and corn. Four parts in five, he says, fireseed.”

The man said something else, in a language Judy didn’t recognize. Evidently Tanda Havra didn’t speak it either, because Tanda asked him to repeat. For a finger width, there was much back and forth.

Eventually Tanda turned back to Tuck. “You need to send many men to the Governor’s Palace. Vertax says that this town, called Xipototec, is the main rally point for the Northern Regime. There are, he says, fifteen thousand stands of rifles in the palace.”

“Three in a stand?” Tuck asked.

A brief conversation. “Four, Tuck.”

Tuck turned towards where the Mexicotál survivors from the town were. They had stopped, several miles from the walls.

Tuck beckoned to Judy. “Find an artilleryman. Tell him I want a gun aimed at those men and fired. A ball, preferably, but grape or case shot will do. It has to be on line, even though the round will fall short.”

Judy found one of the mortar lieutenants who was inspecting one of the big Mexicotál guns. She passed on the order and the lieutenant looked at the gun, then at Judy. “When in doubt, Lady Judy, ask your sergeant!” He was calling for the man, and Judy left it in their hands. Less than a finger width later, one of the huge cannon on the walls boomed.

Again, a signalman reported, “The Mexicotál forces are heading southwest. Captain Andromoth says the Ruthani wish to destroy them.”

“Tell Captain Andromoth,” Tuck said, “that the Ruthani are to follow, observe and report. The Mexicotál aren’t to know they are being followed.”

Tanda looked at Tuck. “Tonight, when it’s dark...we could send fifty men south. At daylight, the Mexicotál would bleed for every step they take south. By nightfall, none would live.”

Tuck sighed. “Tanda, war is about what you think you see. You judge your enemy based on what you think you see. If your enemy lies, if what you see isn’t the truth...then you don’t know your enemy’s true strength or intentions.

“Sure, we could destroy them. Odds are, Huspai, the town to the south, will learn of the attack, anyway. You can’t attack a town this size, with this many defenders and expect the other side won’t notice.”

“They will notice! And fear us!”

“Exactly!” Tuck agreed. “And what would they do then? They would carefully assemble their forces, they would march against us cautiously and would attack us cautiously. How is that to our advantage? We want them to make mistakes. That would be encouraging them not to make mistakes!

“No, we let them go. They will assume we are over-extended and will assemble a force to move against us with the minimum of preparation before they march against us.”

“They have forty thousand soldiers there. Half of them will come. We fought here, nearly three to one against us and won. That is good! Before, we have fought many times our numbers and won and then we have withdrawn. We can’t withdraw here. The Mexicotál will put everyone living in this town to death if they retake it. Twenty-five thousand men, women and children, Tuck,” Tanda remonstrated.

Tuck smiled. Judy wished she had his confidence. “Tanda,” Tuck told his intended, “I’ve never given you reason to think so ill of me. I take my responsibilities seriously, as you should well know. I didn’t come here to get everyone in Xipototec slaughtered by the Mexicotál.”

He paused, “If there is a wagon train here, then this town must be on the Mexicotál road north.”

“It is,” Tanda Havra confirmed.

“Well, our mission was to cut that road. We’ve done it. Our next mission was to keep the road cut for as long as possible. That means we have to stop the Mexicotál who will march against us. You say there are twenty-five thousand people here?”

“Yes, Tuck.” Tanda sounded unsure of herself, something Judy had trouble believing.

“They can have a party tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll clean up the mess, then tomorrow night we’ll have another party. First thing the day after that, I’ll be asking for volunteers. Sixty thousand muskets, eh? A hundred and sixty tons of fireseed?”

Tanda was patient. “Tuck, it will take the Mexicotál two moon quarters to reach the town to the south. They will assemble and come north. A moon and a half from now, Xipototec will face twenty thousand Mexicotál regular soldiers.”

“So, the locals will have a party tonight and a party tomorrow night. Then for the ten days after that we’ll drill volunteers in how to load a musket. Then we’ll give them some time to learn to aim, and the rest of two more moon quarters to learn to march on command. Then we march south. A few days south of here, we’ll meet the Mexicotál.”

“You can’t train a soldier in a few moon quarters!” one of the Hostigi onlookers gasped in shock.

“We can teach a man to load and fire in a moon quarter. We can teach him to follow someone who knows what he’s doing on a march in a couple of days. We will line them up and have them face their worst enemy. And then they will learn that the God-King’s soldiers die just like any other soldier, when you shoot them.”

“Thousands of them will die!” Tanda said, obviously upset.

“I figure we’ll get five to seven thousand volunteers,” Tuck said, ignoring Tanda. “We will train them. It will be my job to put them in a place where they can gain confidence under fire, by killing their enemies and not getting killed themselves. So far, the God-King’s soldiers have been very obliging.”

There were laughs among the assembled men. All knew they were deeper in Mexicotál territory than any army had ever gone, more successful than any army had ever been. And Tuck was right -- the Mexicotál had been as stupid as the Zarthani had been, near Outpost. Judy nodded, sure Tuck was right.

“And if you make a mistake?” Tanda demanded from Tuck.

“Then they die, I die, you die, Judy and Tazi die. We all die. But what happens if we win? The Mexicotál road will have been cut for three hundred miles. Three hundred miles, Tanda! They won’t be able to move forward this year, and if we do our jobs, they might have trouble next year. Count Errock wanted two moons...we’ll give him a dozen or two, if we win.”

Tanda stared at Tuck, her nostrils flaring with anger. “You understand,” Tanda said finally, “if you get us all killed, I will never marry you?”

There were a few gasps, but Tuck laughed.

“If I don’t get us all killed, will you marry me? On the winter solstice?”

Judy laughed at that, as did Tazi.

Tanda Havra grinned then. “If you think you will be alive the day after our marriage!”

“The day after our marriage, Tanda Havra, you will say something polite about me in front of everyone.”

Again, everyone laughed.

Judy saw the look that passed between them. Then Tuck turned to everyone present. “Have we got a war to fight or what? We need to secure the palace; we need to see if we can take a few prisoners. We need to get started on a rip-roaring party tonight!”

II

Gamelin and his men entered the city carefully, walking their mounts through the tangled mass of Mexicotál dead in front of the city’s main gate. There were several hundred Hostigi regulars on guard at the gate, commanded by Captain Mnestreus.

“Lord Tuck is at the Governor’s Palace on the other side of town,” the captain told Gamelin. “Report to him there.” Gamelin saluted and his men mounted again to ride through the town.

The area beyond the gate consisted of an open space a hundred paces on a side, then sun-baked mud brick buildings that essentially formed another wall, this one two stories high, with the only windows on the second storey. There was a wide road that led into the town, also blank faced. The road went only a few hundred feet, before turning. They moved a quarter mile, with only occasional narrow alleys leading off from the main road and there were two more bends.

Vosper rode next to Gamelin and spoke finally. “Could you imagine how tough this place would be to take if we actually had to assault it?”

“You would need cannon,” Gamelin said. “Stand off at a distance and blow down the walls inside, then go through the walls, not down the road.”

Vosper looked at him, and then smiled. “Lord Tuck is a good teacher!”

They reached the main square. It was much larger than Gamelin expected, with a large well in the center. One side of the square had the Governor’s Palace, which backed into the wall around the town. There was a mass of wagons behind a barricade in another corner of the square, with a smaller fenced-off area filled with horses.

There was a tremendous mass of humanity atop a pile of something that was obscured by the sheer numbers of people atop it. It was, Gamelin thought, more people in one place than he’d ever seen in his life.

A Hostigi lieutenant grinned at Gamelin. “Lord Tuck is inside the palace. The governor and about fifty officers, priests and nobles fled through a postern gate.”

“That’s too bad,” Gamelin said. “What’s that?” he waved at what had to be the largest crowd of people he’d ever seen in his life.

“It was too bad...for them,” the lieutenant told Gamelin. “Lord Tuck had placed some of the Ruthani to hold the gate. The Ruthani skinned the ones they captured alive.”

Then the lieutenant waved at the people obviously hard at work in the hot afternoon sun.

“That was the Temple Pyramid of the God-King here. Where the sacrifices were made. They’re tearing it down, brick by brick, by hand. Great Galzar, do these people hate the God-King!”

Gamelin turned back and looked again. Tens of thousands of hands were tearing at the stones of the building, tearing it down. Men, women, children, and the old...everyone it seemed who lived in the town. It was already visibly lower than it had been a finger width before.

“Where are they putting the rubble?” Gamelin asked, watching a line of people that ran from the former temple, into the governor’s palace.

“They are dumping it in the river,” the lieutenant replied. “They say they are washing the blood off. A year from now, they will raise a new temple to their own gods, with the purified bricks.”

A finger width later Gamelin saw Lady Judy emerge from the palace with a dozen men, who trotted off on some errand. She saw him almost the same time he saw her.

Gamelin smiled in relief at her safety, from the sheer joy of seeing her again. She was so beautiful! Judy smiled back and then beckoned.

He was off his horse and nearly stumbled in his haste to comply.

“You have your company?” she said, looking at his men.

“Yes, Lady Judy.”

“Captain Tuck says that you should take them over there, and guard those wagons and horses.” She pointed to the area where the wagons were. “There is more than a hundred and fifty tons of fireseed in those wagons, plus tons of grain. Tuck says, remember the Zarthani fort! Be careful!”

Gamelin grimaced.

Judy finished up his instructions. “When you have your people settled in, the guards posted, return here, to the governor’s audience room.”

Gamelin saluted, turned and got his soldiers going. It was one of the most difficult things he’d done in his life, turning his back on her, and even harder still, not to turn back for another glimpse. She was right, though. This was important. That much fireseed exploding would level the town, he was sure. Not to mention kill them all.

“Make a field camp here, outside the wagon enclosure,” Gamelin told his men. “I want a rope corral for our own horses, based on that fence. Vosper, take a party through the wagon corral and count how many wagons there are, and then check the perimeter.”

The sergeant nodded, pulled four men out and went inside.

“I’ll make this short,” Gamelin told his company. “These are supply wagons. They contain no beer, no wine, and some grain. Mainly the wagons are filled with fireseed. If I find a man smoking within a hundred paces of the corral, I’ll kill him.”

The small movements of the men vanished, leaving only the sounds of the horses, waiting patiently in the sun. “We will guard these wagons carefully. We’ve done a fine job today, we accomplished our mission!” He lifted his right hand high, thumb up. “Three cheers for Lord Tuck!”

The cheers were loud and enthusiastic.

It took a palm width to get things organized. There had been a dozen men who’d been guarding the wagons before, now they returned to their own company. Gamelin stood with Vosper, watching the finishing touches on their rope corral. “A sergeant told me Tuck has announced a party tonight. Tomorrow we’ll clean up battle damage and have another party. Then, so the sergeant said, we’re going to train Mexicotál peasants to be soldiers of the High King.”

“That takes a year,” Gamelin said, dubiously. “I don’t think we have a year.”

“If the sergeant is to be believed, Lord Tuck plans on doing it in a moon.”

“I’ve walked with him. I’ve talked with him. I’ve fought beside him,” Gamelin told Vosper. “I stopped thinking of him as a sorcerer long ago. If he can train soldiers in a moon, then he truly is a sorcerer!”

“The sergeant said that as well as the fireseed that we guard, we also took sixty thousand rifles. Rifles, not muskets.”

That stopped Gamelin and focused his attention on Vosper.

Vosper met his lieutenant’s eyes.

Vosper went on to say, “We looked at the wagons, opening one of the kegs of fireseed. Lord Gamelin, the fireseed does not bear either the Temple Mark of Styphon, or the Seal of the High King. Instead, there is a symbol like this.” Vosper leaned down a drew a small circle in the sand, then eight elongated circles that didn’t touch the one in the center, but the smaller end of the stretched circles all pointed inward.

“Mexicotál rifles, Mexicotál fireseed,” Vosper told him.

“I need to report to Captain Tuck,” Gamelin replied. Gamelin glanced across the square. There was just about nothing left of the Mexicotál temple. “When they get done there, quietly turn out the men. Keep all but a few out of sight, but ready to form up as needed. Those people really hate the God-King and I don’t think anyone knows what will happen next.”

III

Tanda wiped sweat from her forehead. How did the Mexicotál live in these buildings? They were much hotter than the houses she’d known in Mogdai and there was almost no air movement at all. They were on a balcony, overlooking the town square, watching as the activity around the temple started to wind down.

Tuck turned to Vertax, now wearing the uniform of a Hostigi private. “Now what will they do?”

Vertax shrugged. “I have no idea. We all knew they hated us. It’s never happened before that the slaves and serfs have taken a town.”

“This is not going to be fun,” Tuck told him. “I want to speak to them. I hope you have a strong voice.”

“Sounds like it,” Tanda told Tuck. Vertax had a deep voice that sounded like it would carry.

“Okay, what we’re going to do is I’m going to speak to you, you’ll translate and talk to the people in my name. I’ll keep it short and simple.”

“Okay.”

“First I’m going to get their attention, then call them over and you tell them I want to talk to them.”

The former Mexicotál officer bobbed his head in understanding. “I don’t think they will hear me,” he told Tuck.

“They’ll hear,” Tuck said with calm assurance.

Tuck turned to one of the Hostigi lieutenants. “Get two dozen men, form them up in two ranks inside the room here. On command, march one rank forward and have them fire into the air on the third pip. Then have the second rank replace them, only to fire on my command.”

The lieutenant was only too eager to please, and in a few moments, there was a single loud crash as a dozen rifles fired at once.

Everyone in the square turned to the palace, the sounds died away. Vertax began to shout his message in a loud voice. Promptly, people began to stream towards the palace and the balcony.

Tuck grinned at Tanda. “That was easy enough!”

Vertax turned to Tuck. “The God-King’s governor spoke from here, whenever he commanded them. It’s what they are used to.”

Tuck looked angry. “It’s too late to do anything about that now. Tell them, Vertax, the very first thing you say, is that tomorrow this balcony will be gone, and after this, I’ll speak from the ground.”

Vertax nodded. He called loudly a few more times, and then spoke a simple sentence. There wasn’t much reaction, just a nervous silence.

Tuck spoke, “Kalvan, High King of Hostigos, does not hold with slavery.”

Vertax repeated Tuck’s words, this time bringing murmurs from the crowd.

“Kalvan, High King, does not hold with serfdom.”

More murmurs.

“Today, I speak in the name of the High King, and I tell you now this land is free in his name, and is under his protection.”

The murmurs quieted, Tanda could see people looking at each other. This wasn’t going well for Tuck, not at all.

“The governor of Xipototec lies dead, his body stripped, his blood soaking your streets.”

“The priests of the God-King lie dead, spilling their blood in your streets as once they spilled your blood on their temple.”

“The nobles of the God-King lie dead, spilling their blood in your streets, as once your blood was spilled.”

“The officers and soldiers of the God-King lie dead, spilling their blood in your streets, as once your blood was spilled.”

“The custom of the High King is to claim half of the lands of his enemies that his soldiers capture. The other half he gives to the soldiers who conquered it.”

“In the High King’s name, I renounce his half. I renounce the part that would come to me. The High King will stand good for the rest himself, paying the bounty to his soldiers and officers from his own coffers.

“You are, this day, free men and women! Xipototec is now your town!”

The crowd was still for a few moments, then they realized the truth: they were free! The screaming was sudden, thunderous and lasted for a very long time.

When they were quiet again, Tuck spoke, “You must select leaders from among yourselves, to speak with me. However, today you are free!”

This time there were even more cheers, growing steadily.

When Tuck finally raised his hands, the sound declined rapidly.

“We have taken much today, from the God-King. Food and drink included. Tonight, let us celebrate! They are dead! We are alive! Long live the High King! Long live High King Kalvan!”

Tuck turned to Lady Judy. “Tell them to start rolling out the kegs of beer and wine. We seriously need to find some meat for a proper barbecue! If not for tonight, then tomorrow!”

Judy laughed, but dashed below.

Tuck motioned to Tanda and Vertax. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to go out, Vertax, but Tanda, we need to know how the people really feel. Could you see to some of the Ruthani who speak the language going among the people, talking to them, seeing what they think?”

Tanda agreed and went to find some of the Ruthani. She found the Paracop, Xenos, and explained what was needed.

“I already have men who have volunteered.” He grinned at her. “You understand that nine months from tonight, there will be a sudden surge of new babies?”

“Do what you must,” she told him.

“I talked to one of the logistos. They haven’t hardly begun to tally what’s here. There are two palace levels above ground, and at least four beneath. Storerooms for everything you can think of! A treasure trove!”

“Gold?” Tanda asked.

He shook his head. “There’s a fair amount of personal jewelry, some fancy bowls and plates. They don’t use money, you know.”

Tanda kicked herself. True, her job wasn’t studying the Mexicotál, but you’d think her curiosity would have extended at least as far as knowing what they used in trade!

She returned to find Tuck holding forth to his officers and some of the senior sergeants.

“When we finish here, you will each go and personally check the guards. Half of your men may party tonight and half tomorrow. Tell them any man found drunk on guard duty today or tomorrow will be set helping bury the Mexicotál dead. The bodies are ripe today. Tomorrow it will be much worse and the day after...well, it won’t just be hangovers making their stomachs churn!”

The officers laughed.

“The same thing with all of you. Half tonight, half tomorrow. Tell Captain Mnestreus your schedule. Show up drunk when you should be sober and you will envy the soldiers burying Mexicotál.” Tuck nodded at the captain. “Captain Mnestreus says that wine gives him a rash, beer makes him break wind, and his wife can scent another woman a thousand miles away!”

There was more laughter. “So, tonight I’ll party!”

His face changed in an instant. “Day after tomorrow, at first light, we will be taking volunteers. A short while later, we will be issuing rifles.

“You may have heard, but I will confirm it: we have captured sixty thousand rifles here, all unfired. Another couple of thousand with blood on them, a lot of those unfired as well.”

The officers dutifully laughed. Tuck shook his head. “Think about it! Think about it! There aren’t sixty thousand men in Xipototec, even if they drafted every man in the town into their army. And what does the army mean to Mexicotál? It is how you get ahead! You join the army. The army and the families of soldiers are almost never sacrificed to the God-King.

“They planned on using those weapons. Think on where! We captured a hundred and fifty tons of fireseed in a wagon convoy and fifty tons of corn. The fireseed wasn’t stolen from Styphon, it wasn’t made in a fireseed mill in Hostigos -- it was made by the Mexicotál. That’s probably seven or eight times as much as we blew up at their fort. Think on where they planned to use it!”

Tuck was silent for a moment, and then went on. “All here who realize that the King of Zarthan made a serious error of judgment trusting the Mexicotál, raise your hands.”

Tanda was amused to watch the back and forth between the Hostigi officers. Gamelin, of course, had his hand up almost instantly. Moreover, to Tanda’s surprise, the usually diffident young officer spoke loudly enough for all to hear.

“In the Trygath, betraying an oath is our sport, to our eternal shame. All know what a promise from a Trygathi is worth!” No one nodded or said anything, but all knew what Gamelin was talking about. “Compared to Styphon, we are nothing. Compared to the Mexicotál...well, even skunks are something!”

There were grins, followed by more general sounds of agreement.

“Tomorrow at first light, there will be an officer’s call,” Tuck told them. “Temper your party-making with that in mind. Tomorrow our senior sergeants will supervise the people of Xipototec in cleaning up the town, make sure they have at least a section to back each of them up. Men who are sober enough to stand straight. Tomorrow we officers will be working on plans to train seven thousand townsmen, teach them how to load, aim and fire the rifles we’re going to start issuing.”

He turned to Tanda. “The biggest impediment I see is language. We can’t talk to them. How many of the Ruthani speak the language?”

“I’ll find out. Several dozen, maybe more.”

“We’re going to need each and every one of them!”

Tuck ended the officer’s call and the men went out, jubilant. Lady Judy stayed and Tazi was her ever-present shadow.

“Tanda, I had Judy get a half dozen messages copied a while ago. I want a half dozen messengers ready to go as soon as it’s dark. Four direct to Outpost, all with different routes. Two to the redoubt, also different routes. Instructions for Pinyon to forward the messages to Outpost.”

“They could go sooner,” she told him.

“No, after dark will be better. Better still, if very few people know they’ve gone. No one should know where, except the four of us and each messenger.”

“It will be as you command,” Tanda told him.

“Fine. Oh, one last thing. I want all of the Ruthani leaders not otherwise busy here in a palm’s width. I wish to speak to them.”

She eyed Tuck warily. “You don’t sound like you will be congratulating us on a battle well fought.”

“You will be much better off if you can look them in the eye and say that I didn’t tell you why I wanted to see them.”

The gathering was large. None of the Ruthani thought himself as anything other than a leader and since the call was for leaders, they all went, thinking in their own minds that they should be included.

Tuck was blunt. “Next to me is Captain Andromoth. Captain.”

Captain Andromoth stood up. “In spite of being told of the High King’s Field Regulations, you slaughtered more than a hundred wounded soldiers today at the ambush in the hills.”

One of the Ruthani scouts stood. He laughed. “None of them called on Galzar! It was a joy killing them!”

It was quick, but then Tuck was like that. One heartbeat the man was laughing, the next, Tuck had shot him dead.

There was an angry murmur from the Ruthani. “What?” Tuck asked. “Did you hear that man appeal to Galzar?” Tuck’s laugh mocked them all.

“I did hear him say he violated the High King’s Field Regulations, which, you will recall, I read to you and you swore to obey. I also told you I would kill any man who broke them.”

“We could not leave that many alive,” another of the Ruthani said, bravely standing up. “We could not take them prisoner.”

“War of the sort the High King wages isn’t easy for all to understand,” Tuck told the assembled Ruthani. “I make allowances, and the High King makes allowances,” Tuck waved at the last man to speak, standing boldly defiant. “Which is why you are alive and the bastard who laughed at the deaths of helpless men is dead.

“Not so long ago, one of my students was faced with a choice soldiers have to make. She’d spilled the guts of a Mexicotál scout. He was going to die. Lieutenant Gamelin would have done what had to be done. Sergeant Vosper would have done what had to be done. I would have done what had to be done. But Lady Elspeth knew her duty and she did it.

“There was no way Captain Andromoth could have succored those men. The alternatives were to kill them as they lay, or leave them for the ants.

“Lady Elspeth was informed of what had to be done, by her field commander. Then she did what had to be done. She didn’t laugh about it afterwards.

“You, you people just did what you pleased. Had you asked, you would have been told to do what you did.”

Tanda saw the Ruthani who was standing frown. “Why ask, then?”

“Because you aren’t the one who decides. The Field Commander decides. If you do it on your own, it is your responsibility...not the Field Commander’s. I know you think I’m splitting hairs, but this is something the High King demands, as well as what I demand. You must not usurp the Field Commander’s authority, not in the least fashion.

“And, when you are asked to do something as fell as kill wounded men, it should be done with knowledge that one day you too might be under the knife.”

Tuck was silent for a moment, and then waved the man to sit. He did, but not quickly.

“We were one thousand three hundred and seventy five men and three women, this time yesterday. Today, you Ruthani killed more of us than our enemies did. You were told what to do at the postern gate. Instead, you rushed the Mexicotál attempting to flee.

“Eleven of you died, another twenty wounded. I lost seven men. You fought fifty and I fought more than two thousand five hundred. Your people died for nothing!”

“We died killing our enemies!” the one man was back on his feet, once more defiant.

“Tell that to the widows of your dead, to their children! Had you done as you were told, you’d have killed them all anyway and those men would be alive now! Captain Andromoth fought eight hundred Mexicotál in the open field and lost only two men! There, until afterwards, the Ruthani did as they were bid.”

Tuck brandished his fist at the man standing. “I came here to destroy the Mexicotál! I didn’t come here to kill my soldiers or those of my allies! The next time you break the least of the High King’s Field Regulations, you will all be sent home.”

“We wouldn’t go.”

“And then we would fight. Look around you! Where are you? We are in the northernmost lands of the Mexicotál! In a little more than a moon we’re going to be marching south. If we fight you, I assume you are better than the Mexicotál soldiers. You might hurt us. How is that going to kill Mexicotál?

“As I told Pinyon, and I will remind you: what is it you want? Do you want a war with the High King, as well as Zarthan and the Mexicotál? I don’t think you’re that stupid, but all I can go by are the things you do. Right now, you look stupid. Tomorrow morning at first light, you will gather your people. Lady Judy will read them the High King’s Field Regulations once again. Tomorrow night, before they go to the party, I personally will read them the High King’s Field Regulations.

“If, after that, any man breaks the regulations, I’ll see that man hung, if one of my officers hasn’t killed the bastard first. If it is a group, I shall consider sending you all home.”

“Hanging isn’t a punishment for a true soldier!” the standing Ruthani said.

Tuck laughed at him. “Exactly. True soldiers don’t violate the High King’s Field Regulations. I plan on using our fireseed to kill Mexicotál soldiers, their nobles and every last one of their priests that we come across. If we must dispose of vermin in camp, it will be done as cheaply as possible.”

Tanda grimaced. Tuck was attacking their pride. He was, in fact, attacking just about everything about the way they fought.

Tuck strode out of the room, Lady Judy following him.

Tanda wanted to laugh. You bastard! You know what you’re doing, don’t you!

There was a chorus of outranged complaints...all directed at her.

“What?” Tanda told the room. “I am Tanda Havra! Kills-from-Behind! You...you are children! When you are told it is time to put up your toys, you cry and pout!”

“We are allies! We should be listened to!” someone shouted.

“He listens!” Tanda exclaimed angrily. “He’s listened to everything each of you said at a council of war. Then he told you what to do. Many of you are fathers! What do you do when your children tell you no, turn their backs on you and walk away? Do you applaud, tell them they are wonderful and you understand why they rebel against your authority? No, you knock them upside the head! You shake sense and obedience into them! And if they stand in a council of the People and shame you, shame your honor, shame the honor of the People, what then? We in Mogdai told stories of such! Do you tell those stories?”

Of course, all the villages told more or less the same stories. Honor wasn’t a concept unique to the Hostigi and Zarthani.

Tanda shook her fist at the assembled men. “So, you are told to behave! You are told to stop being stupid and dying for no reason! And you complain? Why Lord Tuck wants such as you with him is something I don’t understand.”

She turned her back on them and walked out. Tazi followed suit. Tanda could only wince. For a noted warrior to back-side them would hurt. To have a girl, barely husband-high, do it, was going to more than hurt. Dying, though, was worse.

IV

Freidal sat at a small table, reading a report on the supply situation when one of the young officers spoke up. “Sire, there’s a rider that just came over the ridge, he is riding towards the Mexicotál encampment. Sire, he’s running his horse down the hill.”

Freidal tried not to show the grimace he felt. He stood and walked painfully to where he could see the man and horse, two miles distant, come down the slope. Mexicotál or not, he hoped the man survived the ride.

Now, more than two moons after his own inability to master the slope, he was finally gaining weight again, but there was going to be a long, long recovery period. In fact, he’d been told repeatedly that he probably would never be as fit as he’d been before he’d fallen from his horse.

He watched the other’s horse reach the bottom and felt cheered.

He’d been deluding himself, there was no other way to describe it. He’d been practicing with a sword, lunges and thrusts and while his arm was weak, it hardly hurt.

When he had told Xitki Quillan that, the count had laughed at him and tossed him a rifle. Freidal had caught it and the pain had nearly made him pass out. He’d tried lifting the rifle into position to aim and he had to stop or he would have passed out.

Underhand, that he could deal with and he could deal with the weight involved -- up to a point. Lifting his right arm level with his shoulder was excruciating. Lifting it higher simply wasn’t possible.

One of the officers who’d come to see what was going on sniffed. “That has to be bad news. True, good news comes swiftly too, but on careful wings, bad news means you flog your horse to death.”

In the distance was a muffled thud, the trademark sound of the Hostigi small cannon. Freidal couldn’t tell where the shell landed, but the horses in one of the corrals could. They shied and bucked from the scream the shell made as it fell, then when it exploded nearby, they panicked.

Another pinprick. Maybe they would lose a few horses, maybe not. But men who could have been resting or training would now be running around, trying to corral the loose stock. It would have been worth their lives to try to find where the shot had come from.

He turned to his aide. “Signal the Mexicotál, officers call in a palm width. Our people as well, but the Mexicotál first.”

Xitki Quillan came up on the veranda and looked around. His eyes found the spot of activity near where the artillery shell had landed.

“I received word from Alros yesterday that our engineers are working night and day to duplicate the weapon,” Quillan informed Freidal.

Freidal had heard the same thing. This wasn’t the place to discuss the fact that only belatedly had they realized you couldn’t see the smoke from the Hostigi cannon. In their experiments they had used fireseed, but after a few rounds, the tubes were fouled with powder residue. Quite obviously, the High King’s weapons weren’t becoming fouled.

Then, there was the device that made the shell explode when it hit.

They’d captured a few shells; they’d taken them apart. They knew what the small metal tube inside did and the artisans had enough of them to understand. It exploded, but it was far more sensitive than fireseed. What it was made of, no one knew. One in ten Hostigi shells failed to explode when they hit...half of those, though, exploded when you picked them up. The Zarthani copies of those shells were lucky if one in ten exploded. Nine of ten exploded when you picked them up, to load into the tube.

So, the artisans of Zarthan worked night and day...to try to find how to make smokeless fireseed and fireseed that exploded each time it was hit hard and not otherwise. They were no closer today than the day they’d started.

“Eventually we’ll know. If nothing else, our spies will tell us,” Freidal said.

Except that half the spies had vanished when Styphon vanished. A lot of those spies had been in valuable positions. The newer spies had a ways to go yet. And Duke Skranga, the High King’s spymaster, was as adept at killing spies as he was at setting them. It was a slow process, at best.

The officer who’d spoken before spoke again. “A Mexicotál messenger on horseback galloped down the ridge a moment ago, Lord Quillan.”

“And I have ordered an officer’s call,” Freidal added.

Xitki nodded, walking over to look over the parapet. “And here come our Mexicotál brothers. I don’t think your messenger reached them, sire,” the officer said.

The meeting was held downstairs. The bombs the Hostigi threw wouldn’t penetrate the stone of the headquarters, but it seemed as though their spies were everywhere. Like as not, some of them would shoot at the officers when they left.

Freidal sat at his end of the table, Xitki Quillan at his side, watching the Mexicotál at the other end. They were still speaking in whispered asides to each other. Finally Uxmal, the Mexicotál captain-general, lifted his head.

“I have a statement,” he told the room.

“You have our leave to proceed,” Freidal said, waving his hand as regally as he could. It was still alien to him.

“The God-King has valued his alliance with his brother, the King of Zarthan. It is time, however, to realize that the dream is not to be at the present time. The God-King requests that his son and his son’s male children be returned to him. You can keep their mother and her daughters, as surety until the others are safe. A ship of the God-King will arrive shortly at Baytown to take them home.

“Tomorrow, my forces will march south, returning to the God-King’s lands.”

Freidal moved his arm, knowing it would hurt. The pain helped clear his mind and make him focus.

“Is there war between us, sir?”

“No, that is not our desire or intent. Issues, King Freidal, have appeared. The God-King wishes to make his realm secure. He has requested his finest soldiers to attend him. Many of those soldiers are here, with you.”

Freidal could feel sweat trickling down his back; he resisted the urge to scratch. He resisted even more stoutly, the urge to lean over and ask Xitki what the hell he should do.

“What sort of issues, General?” Freidal asked, thinking it a safe question.

The exchange of looks between the captain-general and the high priest made Freidal nervous.

“As your highness is aware, our road has been subject to delays. It is summer and water has become very scarce. This has further delayed construction.”

Freidal decided that it was time to publicly state what had been obvious for some time.

“We would have no problem if those who labored on your road withdrew until the fall and the rainy season. We are not going to be able to assault Outpost until the spring.”

If the Mexicotál left, it wouldn’t be advancing they’d be doing. The surviving Zarthani forces would barely outnumber their enemy. He might very well have to retreat himself.

“Alas, the Hostigi have attacked one of the towns in the Northern Regime,” the captain-general admitted.

“And were repulsed, of course?” Freidal said with every bit of positive emotion he could muster, while inwardly certain this whole affair was because the attack hadn’t been repulsed.

“The High King, as you well know, has broadcast a Proclamation of Emancipation to all slaves and serfs, freeing them. He has promised them land, as the High King does, if they agree to serve him.”

“And this has what to do with this town that was attacked?”

Freidal knew he really, really didn’t want to hear the answer. But knew he must.

“The people rose up in favor of the High King. The garrison, the governor, the priests, the nobles...all were slaughtered.”

“And of course, you have brought troops up to destroy these rebels, yes?” Freidal asked.

The general held his eyes. “The town uprising was coordinated with an attack by several thousand Hostigi who now occupy the town.”

“And so it is your intention to cut and run?” Xitki asked. “You have this, of course, by the order of the God-King?”

The two Mexicotál started to look at each other, but both stopped short. “I know the God-King’s will,” the Mexicotál high priest said. “It is as if he was talking in my ear.”

Freidal wanted to throw himself down on the floor and weep in frustration. Xitki was right. They had no orders, they were just running. Panic was an infectious disease. It wasn’t lost on Freidal that his camp’s sanitary regulations were adopted from the High King’s because the High King didn’t lose very many men to disease...or panic.

He willed himself to be calm, to think this through.

“Was this town on your road?”

“Yes, highness,” the general responded. “Even now, the armies of the Northern Regime march to overwhelm the rebels. But the God-King must see to the safety of his realm. Other towns could revolt. We are still advancing on Xiphlon, that has not changed.”

Freidal felt more sweat-trickles down his spine. He couldn’t look at Xitki. The least sign of weakness could have the worst conceivable consequences. “You understand that if you withdraw I will have to consider our position here as well. It may be that we will have to withdraw as well.”

The captain-general could only shrug. “I must do as commanded, highness.”

Freidal’s mind had been racing. The loss of the Mexicotál town must have been a severe psychological blow. He could understand that. If the Hostigi had attacked and taken a Zarthani town, he’d have been badly shaken. But would his first instinct have been to turn and flee?

The Mexicotál had received a messenger. That messenger had to be the one telling them about the lost town. The message would have come only after the least wait for details beyond confirmation. They had no orders so they were acting on their own. They were panicked. Why? There was something in the news they were covering up. What?

The God-King didn’t prize initiative, he cared only about slavish devotion to orders. Did these two have orders for what to do in this case? That seemed to be absurd, on the face of it. The Mexicotál God-King predicting a successful attack on a town that had never been attacked before, much less with success?

Freidal, coldly, deliberately, showing the least trace of effort he could, mashed Xitki Quillan’s boot under the table.

“What, general,” Freidal asked after another moment, “did you lose in this town besides some troops, a governor, priests, nobles and soldiers? All of whom the God-King has more than enough to spare?”

It was rude, insulting and asking for more than any ally had a right to know.

Around Freidal, for the first time, the room stirred as people, other than those at the table, moved and spoke between themselves quietly.

“The governor of the town, knowing the road wasn’t completed, hearing of Hostigi attacks against your road and ours, held back a wagon train of supplies. Fireseed, in support of our armies and some grain.”

“How much fireseed?” Freidal pressed.

“You understand, it was to support our Western army when it came up. We wanted to get it in place, before they arrived.”

“How much?” Freidal pressed.

“Many tons,” the captain-general replied.

“How many tons of fireseed?” Freidal insisted.

The captain-general looked at the priest who shook his head. “Many tons,” he repeated.

Many tons? Where would they get tons of fireseed? They had begged for as much fireseed as Styphon could spare! On the other hand, they had armed their men here with rifles that they hadn’t purchased from Styphon or the Zarthani. Which meant they’d manufactured the weapons. Fireseed was sensitive, but easy enough to make. If they were making one, they were making the other.

Freidal contemplated things, willing himself to be calm, to think. Reluctantly, he decided that he dared not press further.

“You understand that if the Hostigi see you preparing to leave, they might sally?” Freidal asked.

The Mexicotál captain-general looked him in the eye. “That is a chance you will have to take.”

“We will meet again tomorrow,” Freidal announced.

“You can do as you will,” the captain-general responded. “At dawn tomorrow we will be marching south.”

Freidal rose, not daring to speak further. Everyone else did as well. The Mexicotál left, heading back to their camp with no further words.

V

Elspeth was bent over a long table, reading numbers off to the senior logistos, formerly a captain. Count Errock and his wife entered the room. “Leave us, Major,” the count said.

Without demur the officer stood and left. The count waved at a chair, “Sit, Lady Elspeth.”

Elspeth sat, not sure what was happening. She had had several conversations with the count’s wife, but she hadn’t talked to the count himself.

“Are Tuck and Judy okay?” she asked the count.

The count chuckled. “Better than okay. Lord Tuck has triumphed in the south, capturing a Mexicotál town. Never, in the two thousand years we’ve fought the Mexicotál, has that been done.”

“Everyone is safe,” Linnea added. “There were amazingly few casualties. Lord Tuck has once again proved his worth.”

The count sighed. “I thought I was a great leader. I fought the High King once and he taught me how little I knew. Lord Tuck fought three to one against him. But the casualties were even more lopsided than usual. Two hundred to one. And the battle spoils!

“The mind can’t conceive of them! I have, in fact, sent a message to him to confirm the numbers. Tens of thousands of rifles! Many hundred pistols! Tons and tons of fireseed -- not the Styphoni manure, but equal to ours! Tons of grain!”

“What my husband is trying to say is that Lord Tuck has won a great victory,” Lady Linnea said. “We have the news on wings of eagles, but Errock thinks that the news has also reached the troops besieging Outpost. Already it appears as though the Mexicotál troops in Freidal’s camp are preparing to depart.”

“I respect my wife’s advice, Lady Elspeth. She tells me that in spite of your pregnancy you are strong and active.”

“I’m not sure about strong, sir. And I’m not as active as I once was.”

Linnea was forthright. “It would not be wise for both my husband and I to make up a parley party. You, Elspeth, are perfect. We want you to go and be Count Errock’s voice again.”

“Lady Linnea, what would that entail?”

“Telling the truth,” Errock told her. “You’ve already explained how you came here and how you’ve suffered. I would never ask you to lie, but you don’t need to embroider the truth. Just tell them what has happened and what we have captured.”

For the first time in Elspeth’s memory, Count Errock looked troubled. “We captured nearly three times as many rifles as there are people in what should have been a border town. There were many tons of Mexicotál fireseed as well. King Freidal is an enemy, but enemy or not, those weapons and fireseed are a threat to his regime.

“The King of Zarthan is no fool; tell him what we’ve gotten as battle spoils.”

“Count, just now I have a worse opinion of authority than I’ve ever had, and it was never high. I don’t think I could be polite.”

Count Errock laughed. “You understand, I believe, that I don’t use these words lightly. But these bastards marched up to my walls and laid siege to my city. You have more reason to be polite than I do.”

He turned brisk. “Such discussions are always as much theater as anything else. You should speak first; insult them, particularly their king. Make a dramatic statement, and then repeat it. You are my voice, understand?

“Linnea says you can do this. Is she wrong?”

“I can tell the son-of-a-bitch that I despise him and all of his soldiers? Not a problem! I’m happy to accommodate all requests!”


	23. Lions

I

Ensign Legios of the Sixth Mounted Rifles tried not to rubberneck like a country bumpkin seeing his first town market as he stood waiting in Captain-General Hestophes’ field headquarters. The headquarters was in the common room of an inn commandeered for the purpose. Legios had seen better inns in his day.

But it wasn’t the building that riveted his attention, it was the physically large blonde-haired man of early middle age, sitting at a trestle table, listening to a logistos report. The captain-general was waving a roasted leg of some sort of bird around like it was a pointer.

At eighteen years old, what Legios was this day, he’d seen very few important men. A few heartbeats before he’d seen General Count Alkides, the High King’s artillery wizard speaking to the captain-general. And always, there was Hestophes.

Hestophes turned his eye to Legios. “You have a message, Ensign?”

“Sir, yes. A report from Brigadier Markos.”

“Report then.”

Legios drew himself up. “Sir, Brigadier Markos reports that at dawn a small force of Mexicotál from their vanguard tried to force a crossing east of the abandoned village of Tepic on the Tulum River. We engaged them, but the Mexicotál thought to trick us. More than a thousand Mexicotál joined the attack, all armed with rifles. They tried to force a crossing of the river. The entire Sixth Mounted rose up and hit them hard. Then, sir, two Mexicotál divisions attacked from the flanks. Twenty thousand men. Brigadier Markos told me to tell you that they are also all armed with rifles. I was told to report to you at once and return with orders. Brigadier Markos is retreating in good order and regrets that he could not hold the crossing longer.”

The captain-general shook his head in wonder. “Only Markos would even think of trying to stop more than twenty thousand with one thousand. You will return to the brigadier in a moment.” He beckoned to one of his sergeants who came and leaned close. Hestophes whispered a few words to him and then the man saluted and left.

Hestophes turned back to Legios. “Come here, Ensign, look at the map.”

Legios approached the table and bent over the map, looking at where the captain-general was pointing.

“Here we are, Ensign.” The captain-general traced the road Legios had galloped up earlier in the day.

Legios had never been prouder. He’d been given Brigadier Markos’ baton, the insignia of the brigadier’s rank. That baton had allowed Legios to change horses every few miles and only another man with a similar baton could challenge him.

He was abruptly reminded he was standing in front of a man who didn’t have time for boys who weren’t paying attention. “Do you know the road, Ensign?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been along it twice now.”

“Five miles southwest of Spintos, the road passes between some hills. A little round one on the east, to the left as you go south, about four hundred feet high. A longer one to the right, mostly parallel with the road and a little higher. A third hill, another two miles further to the west, higher still. That’s also to the right as you go south. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, you ride like the wind back to Markos. Tell him I want him on the eastern hill, that’ll be the one on the right as you come back. I want him there before dark tonight. He is to dig in and hold the hill until he can no longer. He is to make sure the Mexicotál don’t flank him to the east, although I have no idea how any significant force could get through those brambles. Just tell him to be careful. Now, repeat my instructions.”

Legios repeated what he’d been told, as he’d been taught. Hestophes waved and Legios went outside, almost running.

He missed the captain-general turning back to the logistos and asking, “Were we ever that young?” The captain-general laughed as he said that.

The logistos smiled thinly. “I was, Hestophes. I don’t think you were ever young. And I’m not sure that boy is all that young. It’s forty miles to the river and he covered that between breakfast and before you finished lunch. He’ll be back with Markos in half that time and back here before night. Today, he will earn his pay!”

The captain-general of the Army of Hostigos belched. “No, I was never that young. At his age I’d have stopped at a bawdy house for some sport. Then I’d have found something to eat. I’d have reported when it pleased me. I have, since, had a better teacher than when I was however young I was in those days.”

* * *

Legios found the sergeant he’d seen inside waiting for him. The sergeant hailed him. “You are to go to Markos?” the sergeant asked.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

The sergeant waved at the most magnificent horse Legios had ever seen. It was the color of sand and stood much taller than any horse Legios had ridden before.

“The captain-general’s compliments, Ensign. This horse will get you back to the brigadier in quick time. Do take care of him, and do hurry.”

Legios nodded, awestruck. Still, he climbed lithely up. The sergeant grinned. “Watch yourself, Ensign! Ride like the wind!”

The sergeant whacked the horse on the rump and it was off at a ground-eating trot.

Legios hadn’t had to deal with as much traffic when he’d come through earlier. Now the road was packed solidly with Hostigi soldiery moving south, most of whom were singing lustily about marching through Nostor.

He only had to brandish the baton a few times, though, and yell “Courier!” to be allowed to pass through units stopped alongside the road, which was the only place he could ride. He’d only gone a few miles before the soldiers turned off the main road, marching west, while Legios continued on south.

He looked at the hill on his left, the one they were supposed to occupy. It was a round mesa, with a tumbled-down section from the steep climb the last fifty feet or so to the top; the tumbled down part faced west.

He saw a large group of men, perhaps a hundred, with many wagons, working at the base of the tumble-down. Cutting a road to the top, Legios thought. There were even more men working on a road on the hill to the west, and they were already appreciably higher than the men working on the eastern hill had gotten. That hill was a long ridge, probably as high as the mesa, but there was no steep rocky part. Further to the west, he could see the third hill. It was like the other one to the west, about three hundred feet high, also not very steep. However, it ran more east and west, rather than north and south.

The horse’s rhythm was lulling, but Legios didn’t think he could sleep, not with all of the excitement.

This morning had been something he had never imagined. He had been with the brigadier and a dozen others, a mixture of young men like Legios and older sergeants and senior lieutenants. They had been on a small rise a few hundred yards from the river, watching the Mexicotál start to cross at first light.

The firing started as a volley from the Hostigi, but the number of rifles in reply had caused some talk, but it wasn’t until a thousand Mexicotál rose up out of nowhere and fired, and then charged with fixed bayonets that the Sixth had any idea they were in a big fight.

But the Sixth Mounted had been the brigadier’s for two years and he’d trained them well. Men, who a moment before had been alert, but not too concerned, settled down and started to return fire. The river obstructed the Mexicotál. Moreover, rifles or not, they couldn’t load and fire in water up to their waists. Almost at once the Mexicotál attack began to falter.

It had been scary. There was no other word to describe how he’d felt. Scared. He’d heard the reports, Legios knew that the Mexicotál van had as many men as the brigadier did. But the Mexicotál were out in the open, with no cover except the water, while the men of the Sixth Mounted were shooting from cover, making no effort to fire in volleys. Instead, each man loaded at his own pace and Legios had already learned that they could fire more often than any unit that volley-fired.

Almost the instant Legios realized the attack would fail, that was when the real blow had fallen. Files of Mexicotál soldiers, two hundred men at a time, rose on each flank and fired, then charged forward into the slow-moving river. Brigadier Markos had known at once what was happening, and sent messengers to tell the various companies to retreat in order.

Then he turned to Legios and ordered him to report to the captain-general at Spintos with news of what was happening at the ford.

It had bothered Legios to turn his back on the battle, but he had his orders. The firing had continued until he was out of earshot of the battle, ten miles down the road. He could only hope that the brigadier had been careful and that the Mexicotál didn’t have any more surprises.

Now, as he returned, he began to hear sporadic firing ahead of him. He slowed the horse and checked his two pistols. It was something they warned him about over and over: be alert for Mexicotál scouts. Another mile further along, he saw a company of the Sixth trotting their horses, heading the way Legios had just come.

This too was something he’d been taught. He turned the horse towards them, and reported to the captain commanding the company. Legios repeated the captain-general’s message for Brigadier Markos to the captain, then drew him a map of where they were supposed to go. This way, if anything happened to Legios, the brigadier still would get his message, and these men would go to the right place. Not only that, a picket would stay here to pass the message on to any other companies that followed, so that Legios wouldn’t have to stop again.

“How did the battle go?” Legios asked the captain.

The man shrugged. “We lost about thirty men of the Sixth. There were a lot of the dirty buggers! But they didn’t press the attack after crossing the river. It was just the usual skirmishers, except the bastards have rifles now, instead of crossbows. Get you on, Ensign!”

When Legios climbed up on the horse the captain laughed. “And who did you steal that magnificent beast from?”

“The captain-general,” Legios said and spurred forward, leaving the others laughing behind him.

Legios grinned to himself. He was the youngest son of a grain merchant of Xiphlon. Except his father hadn’t always been a grain merchant. When Legios was ten years old, they had a farm near Fitra, in old Hostigos. There, Legios had actually gotten to see the High King, even though at the time he wasn’t the High King yet, just Lord Kalvan, and at ten, Legios was too young to understand much of what had happened that day.

They had to leave their home in the middle of the night, when riders came to warn them that mercenaries in the employ of Gormoth of Nostor were attacking. They threw a few things in a wagon, and then they’d fled, with the horizon already ablaze as the mercenaries advanced.

By mid-morning the next day, his family was part of a great stream of people, fleeing the fighting that left towering columns of smoke behind them. Legios could remember his father exclaiming with pleasure as the traffic on the road began to move faster.

But it hadn’t been a good thing. The traffic was moving faster because Hostigi infantry were in the road, piling up wagons and goods to block it. Legios, his mother, brothers and sisters had been moved back several miles on foot, while his father had been set to help build the barricade.

The battle was a tremendous victory for the High King, but it cost Legios’ family everything they owned but the clothes they stood in.

And now, here he was! Legios knew his father wasn’t happy that Legios wanted to be in the army. But his father, instead of throwing up objections or simply forbidding Legios to go, had sent Legios to Brigadier Markos with a letter of introduction.

First Legios spent a moon in Xiphlon, learning to shoot. Many of the others had to learn to ride, but he already knew, so, instead, he’d been sent to a quick school to learn how to carry messages. That took a half moon, then Brigadier Markos came and asked all that were there if they wanted to march against the Mexicotál. Everyone volunteered, including Legios.

Now he reached the brigadier and climbed down from the magnificent horse. Getting down was much harder than Legios expected. Still, he made his report, drawing the map in the dirt alongside the road. He told the brigadier that he’d passed on the message to the first captain he’d met, and that pickets had been posted on the road to tell the units ahead of the brigadier.

The brigadier looked at the map for a few moments, then called for his staff. In short order, commands were passed, and then most of the brigadier’s staff were galloping ahead of the rest of the Sixth.

Legios had been told to follow along and he did. It was something to think about: one of the things Brigadier Markos had told him was that one courier had been killed in the fighting during the morning and another wounded.

When they reached the hill they were to occupy, the brigadier stopped, sitting his horse, looking over the terrain for a few heartbeats.

“There’s a road being built,” Legios reminded him, “around there.” He pointed towards where it was. You couldn’t see it from where they were, but Legios was sure it was there. You could certainly see the road on the middle hill.

They rode up the hill, going slowly and taking care of their horses. It was getting on towards sunset, and only the fact that the ground they were riding on faced west kept the footing from being treacherous. The brigadier conferred with the engineer officer working on the road, then motioned the rest of them to come along. They reached the point on top of the mesa that was furthest south. Brigadier Markos stared out over the expanse of broken brush that spread out in front of him without a word.

After a bit, one of the captains spoke up. “This is much better ground, sir, than any other we’ve seen today.”

The brigadier didn’t take his eyes off the view when he spoke, “This is very good ground. However, much as I would like to hold this hilltop, it’s a little too good. They will have a hard time getting to us, and we will have an equally hard time getting at them from on top.”

He turned to his junior aide. Legios looked at the young lieutenant, not much older than he was. “Paper,” the brigadier commanded and the young man handed his commander a sheet. The brigadier started drawing on it, while Legios contemplated how much the brigadier’s aide’s hand had trembled as he held out the paper. Sickness was always a risk in the field, and you were better off if you stayed away from sick people.

Brigadier Markos spoke to them when he’d finished the map. He held it up so all could see it. “We will deploy along the break in the hill, with the cliff to our rear. We will have two companies here,” he pointed to circles at the southern tip, next to each other. “Another company here.” Here was around on the side away from the road. “Two more companies here,” this time it was around towards the road, “two more here on the crest, above the road. I have put the name of the captain I want in a position in each circle.”

There were murmurs of understanding. The one captain that Legios knew almost always had a good question had one now. “No reserves, Brigadier?”

“I’ve fought the Mexicotál several times. They are very predictable, rifles or not. Most likely tomorrow morning at dawn they will hit us with a half division: five thousand men. Maybe, if they want to make an example of us, a full division. We’re going to need every man on the lines from the start.

“We need to have some sharp eyes up here,” the brigadier went on. “We can’t let them flank us to the east. I know the brambles make that almost impossible, but almost isn’t something I’m comfortable with. They are to report any trace of smoke or dust they see out there.”

There were a few more minor questions, and then Brigadier Markos gestured at Legios. “Ensign, are you up to taking this map to each of my captains, telling them where they are to go?”

“Yes, sir!” Legios said with alacrity.

“Good, do so. Have each of the captains initial the map next to his name.”

Legios didn’t say anything; he knew better. In the past captains would do as they pleased, but the High King had introduced the idea of written orders and signed receipts. A lot of captains grumbled, but there were a lot fewer mistakes.

“Yes, sir.”

“When you are finished with that, return to me here.” He pointed to a rock in the middle of the flat area. “We’ll base the horse corral on that rock. Take care of your horse. After that, you get some rest. I’ll send someone for you when I need you again.”

“Yes, sir!” Legios said, and dashed for the horse and was up and away, ignoring the pain in his arms and legs, the tired muscles in his stomach.

II

Denethon stood in his stirrups to stretch. Behind him the men of his company also stretched. He spent the time studying the hills ahead of them. One hill was to the east of the road, two more to the west. The westernmost hill was, he thought, pretty well out of a fight for the road as the road wound between the two eastern-most hills.

With a sinking feeling he realized what Oaxhan would plan, the instant he saw this ground.

As if hearing his thoughts, the captain-general and his coterie of officers and other hangers-on came cantering up. Denethon kept his face blank. Xitki Quillan had a tenth as many in his entourage and they were all staff officers and senior sergeants. There were few staff officers in the army of the God-King and few of those were allowed to travel into the field.

Oaxhan pulled up next to Denethon. “Look at this lovely ground, General Denethon! Isn’t this grand!”

“Yes, Captain-General,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. He could win this battle. Xitki Quillan could win this battle and the war. Oaxhan was going to lose it here.

He abruptly stopped thinking along those lines. Xitki Quillan had been defeated and was withdrawing as he, Denethon, sat his horse on this hill, so far away. Denethon wanted to weep. It had been a gamble, yes. But he and Alros loved each other, and this had been their only chance. And now she was the center of a storm greater than even the most experienced sailor could deal with. And she was just sixteen! Freidal was a good man, none better! But he was hundreds of miles from home and it would be to the God-King’s enormous advantage if something happened to him.

And if something happened to Freidal, Alros would be queen and he would have nothing, because there was no way, promises or not, that he could marry her.

Denethon settled himself carefully down on his horse, denying his mind a chance to dwell on the dangers to his own personal ambition, focusing instead on the dangers that faced the young woman he loved.

“Bring the army up tonight,” Denethon said eventually. “Get them formed up at first light. Mid-morning, send them down the road.”

“Only two divisions will be here early tomorrow,” Oaxhan told him. “I want the others well rested. They will be here later tomorrow. This,” Oaxhan waved at the terrain ahead of them, “is simply wonderful ground! What a chance to make a fool of Hestophes!”

Denethon controlled his temper. “I do not know the mind of the God-King,” Denethon told Oaxhan. “I do know the mind of my king. If I were to tell him we had defeated Hestophes, he’d be content. Humiliating enough for the High King, just to have his best soldier retreat.

“Captain-General, you should send runners to your men and have the main body come up as quickly as possible. Give them a few palm widths of rest in the morning, if you must. Then throw them right up the road.”

“What we will do,” Oaxhan said, speaking to all, ignoring Denethon, “is launch a half division attack tomorrow on that hill to the east and kick them off that hill. Hestophes will have to spend many men to counter-attack.”

One of the scouts who’d been a little ways off from Denethon spoke loudly. “General! The Hostigi who fought us at the ford this morning are there on that hill! There are barely a thousand of them! You will crush them tomorrow before High Sun!”

Oaxhan turned to the speaker. “What of the other Hostigi dispositions?”

The man shrugged. “Captain-General, I don’t know. Scouts to the east report the brambles are impassable. We have watched carefully here. Strong Hostigi forces are preparing to take up positions on the central hill. There are gun emplacements being built on it. Most to range the road and the rest to engage forces attacking from the south.”

“And to the west?” Denethon asked, without much hope of good news.

“None of my scouts have returned from that direction yet. It is much further off. Tomorrow, early, I’m sure I’ll know more.”

Oaxhan nodded as if this was satisfactory. “What we will do day after tomorrow, is launch another half division attack, this time at the center hill. As soon as their artillery starts to fire, the attack will reorient and attack the eastern-most hill. Another pair of divisions will come up, as if to support the attack.

“As that attack goes home, ten divisions will sweep over the western hill and turn the Hostigi flank. The rest of the army will attack the center as the Hostigi start to crumble.”

Denethon blinked, amazed at the stupidity of it.

“General Oaxhan, Hestophes is between you and Spintos. Every step to the west you take, will take you further from the town and Hestophes. Hestophes can pull back on the town and we will be no better off than we were yesterday or today.”

“The God-King’s men don’t need roads! Our soldiers will run, General Denethon! They will sweep around to the west and catch Hestophes coming once again to kick our troops off the eastern hill, as he will have had to do tomorrow. We will get behind him and cut him off. He will have to submit to me! What a fine thing that will be!”

Denethon closed his eyes. The worst kind of a general was the general who counted the plaudits for his victory before the battle commenced.

“Suppose, General Oaxhan, that Hestophes is on that western hill? Your scouts haven’t told you anything about his whereabouts.”

Oaxhan slapped his fist into his palm. “Better yet! The God-King’s finest soldiers, double his numbers, will roll over Hestophes and his men! I will speak to the men before the battle and tell them they are not to give quarter to their enemies! We will destroy every single one of them! Not only a great victory, but even more pleasing!”

“And is there word of the High King?” Denethon cautioned.

“No, none,” the scout commander reported. The look he gave Denethon told Denethon all he really needed to know. The scouts had no idea where any of the forces opposing Oaxhan were except for a paltry thousand men squatting on one stupid, pointless hill. This was a prescription for disaster!

Denethon made one last attempt to stop the disaster he saw looming. “Captain-General, do you think Hestophes will oppose you?”

“Of course. We heard a few days ago that the town would need a full moon quarter to be emptied. We will be there before that. Those Hostigi civilians are soft, they do not know how to march! We will overtake those that do leave and capture many to offer in sacrifice to the God-King! We will have the greatest sacrifice in our history! Men will talk of the day for a thousand years!”

“Hestophes,” Denethon said, keeping his voice steady, “will try to win, won’t he?”

“Fifty thousand against a quarter million! He can try whatever he wants!” Oaxhan exulted. “He is expecting feathered barbarians armed with bows and arrows! He will face jungle jaguars armed with rifles and cannon!”

“I seriously doubt that he does not know how your men are armed. You told him this morning and then let his men escape. What, Hestophes lost two dozen men today? You attacked with twenty thousand!”

“The God-King’s soldiers swept the Hostigi from the field! How can you say otherwise?”

“The Hostigi killed nearly as many men of yours as there were Hostigi. A few dozen Hostigi were killed, the rest withdrew in good order. It wasn’t a victory, Oaxhan, it was a sign of what will happen here, if you aren’t careful!”

Oaxhan rounded on Denethon. “Zarthani! I’ve listened to your fears long enough! Close your mouth! You and yours are cowards, do you understand? The God-King has no use for such as you, none!”

“Captain-General,” Denethon said, gathering his last possible argument, “the only way you can lose here is to attack into a trap that Hestophes sets for you with a portion of your force. You are attacking to the west with a portion of your force. Have a care, General! Have a care!”

Oaxhan’s face turned black with rage. “General Denethon, please retire to your quarters! I’ll let you know when I want to see you again.”

“My men will not ride onto the field either tomorrow or the next day,” Denethon told him, sitting up straight, trying to convey haughty contempt.

“I don’t need cowards. Get you gone, General!”

III

Judy found Tuck sitting on the veranda of the palace, his feet up on a table, a glass of wine in his hand. “Tuck, I have some questions.”

He looked at her, and then shrugged. “Ask away, Judy.”

“How many pistols did we capture?”

“About five thousand, give or take.”

“I want to arm my people with two pistols and a rifle.”

“All that weight will be hard for them to carry,” he came right back.

“Yes, but my thought was that a rifle won’t be much use when you’re searching a battlefield. There an extra pistol would be useful. On the other hand, chasing Mexicotál in the desert, a pistol would be handy if things got tight, but a rifle would be handier the rest of the time.”

“You have my permission,” he said, eschewing further questions.

“Where should we camp? Who do we draw supplies and rations from? Can we expect the standard equipment that the Army of Hostigos uses?”

“The God-King’s soldiers have a slightly different set of equipment. No shelter halves, for one thing. They have blankets and something like a waxed poncho. Your people will have to make do with those for now. Otherwise, yes, standard issue, with the exception that you may arm them with a brace of pistols.

“Captain Andromoth has set an area aside for your people in one corner of his camp, outside the walls of the town. Your people and any women that volunteer will be quartered there. That part of the camp will have Hostigi guards on the perimeter. Don’t let your people wander. Remind them there’s a war on and we’ll shoot people we find sneaking around in the dark.”

“What sort of physical requirements are you going to use to pick recruits?” Judy asked.

He smiled slightly and then licked his thumb, making a “one point for you” sign.

“Now that is something I never gave a moment’s thought to. In the past, recruitment was someone else’s job, not mine. Even the training I did was more or less advanced training. I will talk to Captain Andromoth, maybe some of the sergeants. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“I don’t think my people will need to run as far as Tanda or Tazi, but they will need to be able to run more than most.”

Tuck grinned. “Just remember where you are and who these people are. Most of them are agricultural laborers, even the women. The sexes are kept separate when they are out in the fields and the kids are separated as well. This was a slave society, Judy, combined with a slaughter every bit as dreadful as Hitler ever envisioned. When I heard what they were yelling yesterday...it was scary. Very scary.”

“I had shivers,” Judy admitted.

“A reasonable sentiment, and not unexpected.”

“Are you upset I recruited Vertax’s daughter?”

He laughed. “Judy, hoary old army tradition: when you find a soldier that suits your needs, you grab him. Or her. So no, I don’t mind. Vertax was taken aback, that’s for sure. He wanted to make a public statement of his humility and penance. He never thought about his daughter actually taking up arms against the God-King. Now, he’s trying to adjust. I have a great deal of sympathy for him.”

Judy stuck her tongue out at Tuck and then stood up. “That’s all for now,” she said.

“Good questions, Judy! Go get ready for the party. Just remember that tomorrow will start early!”

She nodded and went towards where Gamelin’s men were posted. He was, she was told, inside the palace, working on loading a wagon.

She found him just as he was finishing supervising the loading. They walked behind the wagon heading out to Captain Andromoth’s camp, and Judy walked with him, thinking she would be able to see where her people would be tomorrow night.

He smiled at her and she smiled back. “I was worried when I saw you earlier, in the middle of that crowd,” he told her.

“It was pretty safe. I saw Vertax painting designs on his daughter’s face. I thought they were pretty, until I heard what they were for.”

“I saw her, earlier. People would reach out and touch her. Just that. Reach out and touch her.” Gamelin sounded unsure, which was a little unusual.

Judy nodded. “Like a saint.”

Gamelin turned to her. “I don’t know that word.”

“Where I am from, a saint was a very special religious person. Very holy. A lot of people believed that if you touched a saint your sickness or injury would be cured instantly. Or that you would be forever lucky after that. After a saint died, people believed that you could experience the same miracles by touching their bones.”

“We have nothing like that. A few of the priests are special, but it is because they are such noble men or women. It isn’t common and when they die, only their memory is venerated.”

They reached the encampment, if that was the word for it. Mostly it consisted of rope lines, with tumbleweeds lashed to the rope. She talked with Captain Andromoth and he pointed out her area, in one corner. Judy grimaced. Evidently Tuck had wanted to make a point: his large tent was sitting right there, in the corner set aside for her.

Judy glanced at the westering sun. Sure, Tuck! A tent! You could cook eggs in it, during the day! Or was that a subtle reminder that she had other things to do during the day? With Tuck, she realized, anything was possible.

Much later, she brought Tazi and Hestius out to the camp. The men on guard smiled at them and made jokes. Judy wasn’t sure why it was, but the rough humor made her feel better.

Sure enough, the tent was too hot to sleep in. The three of them spread blankets under the stars and slept on them.

IV

For a few heartbeats Gamelin watched Judy head for the camp accompanied by Tazi and Hestius, before he turned back towards his company’s camp by the fireseed wagons. It was odd, he thought, as he walked towards the wagons. He had all but forgotten what was in the wagons. That thought sent a shiver down his spine. He would remind Vosper and they would remind everyone again that forgetting what they were doing could be the death of them all.

Out of the dark, a shrouded figure appeared. The hat, though, was enough to keep Gamelin from making a fool of himself.

“Lord Tuck,” Gamelin said, pleased to see the other.

“Gamelin! Busy?”

Gamelin wanted to groan. “No, Lord.”

“I have two things I want to say to you.”

“Yes, sir?” Gamelin replied.

“First, I want you and Vosper at the main gate tomorrow at dawn. Leave another of your sergeants here in charge.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Tuck laughed and clapped Gamelin on the back. “Son, let me tell you something. You don’t have to be formal with me. Not at all. Judy likes you and that means a lot to me. Tanda likes you, which means you continue to live. I too like you, which means you keep living as well.”

Gamelin chuckled at that, as did Tuck. “Still, here I am Lady Judy’s father in all but name. As such, I want to commend you both on your ability to restrain yourselves.”

Gamelin broke out in a sweat. What could possibly be a good answer? “Lady Judy is a fine woman and a fine soldier.”

“That she is,” Tuck told him. “You understand my concern as a father? Not only for Judy as a young woman, but as a young officer? For you too, Lieutenant. As a young officer?”

Gamelin stopped and faced Tuck. “I understand your concerns. Trust me, Lord Tuck, my father has those same concerns, as he has many others. There is a lot riding on my ability to do my duty. I cannot betray my father or my ancestors.”

“Not so long ago I admitted to Tanda that I wished the two of you were hopelessly in love, unable to restrain yourselves.”

Gamelin spoke with all his dignity. “I am not like that. Lady Judy is not like that.”

“I know. That’s what makes it such a headache. Gamelin, you’re a fine young man, absolutely fine. Judy is the same–a fine, fine young woman. I have decided to give the two of you a wedding present.”

“Lord Tuck, things aren’t that far along.”

Tuck took Gamelin’s shoulder in his hand. “I know, this is for later. I’m going to wrap this war up before the winter solstice.”

Gamelin choked in surprise. “That won’t be easy to do.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on doing it all myself! You’ll help. Tanda, Judy, all of you. Even the High King–I figure he’s going to help as well.”

Gamelin could only gargle with concern. “The High King...”

“Is a man with a purpose. That purpose is the maintenance of his kingdom. Look, Gamelin, I know about mortars. There are a lot of other things I know about, things I’m pretty sure the High King understands as well or better than I do. Trust me, Gamelin. The High King is going to hand these guys the sharp end of the stick. He will make them regret they ever got the notion to attack him.”

“There are a lot of Mexicotál. And Zarthani,” Gamelin cautioned.

“Gamelin, I will tell you a secret. In my home, the first general to meet some people like the Mexicotál had just a few hundred men and fireseed weapons. He killed a great many of them, took their God-King prisoner and destroyed them in just a few years. Two or three years, with just a few hundred men.”

Gamelin stopped and stared, stunned. “We have had more trouble,” Gamelin managed.

Tuck nodded. “Yeah. But just remember, the general who beat the those people like the Mexicotál where I came from did it four hundred and fifty years ago. We have gotten a lot better since then!”

Gamelin stopped talking and started thinking. What would the world be like in a hundred years? Two hundred? Four hundred and fifty? That was like forever! No wonder Lord Tuck won his battles!

Tuck was watching him and Gamelin bobbed his head in understanding.

“Yeah, you understand. Now understand this: you and I, Gamelin, we’re officers. We do what we’re told. One thing neither of us has had to do was choose who can join the army and who stays home. Others have always done it for us. Then others have trained those men, until finally they are given unto us to command. Here, Gamelin, here we choose and then we will have to train them. You, me, all of us...even Lady Judy. It is the gravest responsibility, Lieutenant. The very gravest.”

Vosper walked up to them and stopped to listen to what was being said.

Gamelin nodded in understanding as Tuck continued. “So, tomorrow at dawn, be at the main gate. This is something all of my officers will do. Each and every last one of us. And the senior sergeants as well. We will all be there.”

Vosper was silent for a bit. “I was going to say I’ve done that every time I’ve gone into the field. Pick and choose and train. Here there will be no hiding our mistakes! We will know whose fault it is, when our men don’t know what is required of them! We can’t curse the sergeants that trained them!”

“Exactly. And deciding who should be there in the first place.”

Later, Gamelin found his blanket and in spite of the warmth of the night, pulled it over his body to dispel the chill he felt.

V

Tanda ran easily, trying to ignore the file of men behind her. Tuck had wanted her to go south, even before the party tonight. It wasn’t, he’d said, as if the Ruthani had earned a party. In truth, given a mission, the men of Ruthani would have scorned a party. Not for the first time she held them in deep contempt, for she understood Tuck’s motivation for the parties.

Ahead of her, a man rose from the desert. Tanda slowed.

“Tanda Havra!” the other exclaimed. He seemed nervous. “I was sent to return to Lord Tuck with dispatches. The Mexicotál continue south.”

Tanda looked him in the eye. “And?”

The man grimaced. “The third day they left two stragglers behind when they continued at first light. Today, they left another man behind when they left camp. Tanda Havra, we killed them.”

Tanda nodded. “It is well. You could not allow scouts to get behind you.”

The man almost wilted in relief.

Tanda took pity on him. “Lord Tuck said not to attack the Mexicotál. That means the main party. Stragglers are a risk. You did right.”

The man bobbed his head. “Now, Tanda, what next?”

“There are three of you?” Tanda asked.

The man grimaced, thinking his two comrades were far enough away and well-enough hidden so that they couldn’t be seen.

“Yes, Tanda Havra.”

“Call them in. We will give the best runner among you the dispatches for Lord Tuck. The rest of us will continue south.”

The night passed and before morning they holed up in some rocks, well back from the Mexicotál camp, watching them.

It was hot, dull and dangerous work. Tanda quickly had most of the Ruthani move ahead of the Mexicotál soldiers, but at the same time moving further away from them, towards the tall mountains to the east.

Thus it was that nine days later they were in good position to see a plume of dust south of them.

Everyone watched, knowing that there weren’t very many Mexicotál coming, but that didn’t matter very much. There were still more than two hundred of those who fled, and the only way for the Ruthani to do their duty was to stay out of sight. It was second nature for all of them, even if it still grated for most.

It was mid-afternoon and Tanda was positive the two groups would join well before the sun went down. What would they do then?

The answer to that was everyone stopped and made camp. Tanda just shook her head. No wonder Hostigos’ enemies were losing!

She studied the local area again. South of them, about four miles, the road turned east to go through a gap between some mountains and low hills that led off to the southwest and a slightly larger ridge east of the road. Tuck had said he wanted to find a place where the road was constricted, with a low ridge parallel with the road. This spot fit his description.

She turned to the Ruthani. “Six of you go back to the trailing party. If a small party of mounted Mexicotál tries to head north to scout, they are to be attacked. The priority is to kill the horses. I don’t care if the men are killed or not. We must kill their horses!”

Someone sniffed in derision. “We can outrun their horses!”

Tanda pulled out her knife and buried it to the hilt in the ground at her feet. “Listen to me!” she hissed in anger. “You listen!” She waved at the desert beyond them.

“In less than half a moon, tens of thousands of the God-King’s soldiers will be marching this way. And what will you do? Why, you’ll run from them and hide–like you always do! Haven’t you even small brains to go with your tiny man-parts? How do you defeat an enemy by being able to run faster than they can and hide better?

“You will do what I say!

“And for those of you with something like a brain, of course we can outrun their horses. That’s not why their horses are dangerous. It’s because our enemies have grown fat and soft! When they are on foot, they walk in a big fat group, they don’t bother to scout or patrol! On a horse, a lazy fat man can go more places than a lazy fat man on foot. Places we don’t want them to go!

“So, some of you will reinforce the trailing group. Tell them to kill the horses, certainly the men too, but they are not to take any risks to kill the men. Tonight we will raid their camp and drive off as many of their horses as we can. Assuming any of you have man-parts enough for the task!”

She left the knife buried in the ground, turned her back on them and walked away.

About a finger-width later Xenos appeared and handed Tanda her knife. “Come back and tell us your plan to attack the camp.”

She took the knife and then shook her head. “Will they do what I told them?”

“Yes, two are going north, but the rest will obey.”

“Good. Go back and tell them to sit still and do nothing until I come back.”

The Paracop looked at her and shrugged. “What are you going to do?”

She sneered. “What always works. Impress the hell out of them.”

She walked along the ridgeline, safely out of view of the Mexicotál, then moved to a trot for a few miles, before slowing again where she’d the signs earlier.

Her mission took until nearly sunset, and after that the return trip was very slow.

When she walked into the camp, everyone was standing, staring at her. She dumped the big mountain puma down in front of them.

“I killed it. I carried it. Now, someone else can skin it,” she announced as if she was talking about a deer.

One of the older men knelt and ran his hand over the plush fur of the big cat, and then he lifted the carcass and rolled it over. “The throat is cut.”

“I couldn’t very well shoot it,” Tanda said dryly, “all I had was a knife.”

One of the younger men, hardly more than a boy, couldn’t help himself. “You killed a great cat? With a knife?” He looked at her, covered from head to toe as she was with the lion’s lifeblood.

Tanda flexed her legs and jumped up, flipping end over end. “There is very little I can’t do!” she announced. There was a stunned silence.

“One thing I can’t do,” Tanda told them, “is sound very much like a cat like this. This is the best I can do,” she screamed, knowing it wasn’t very good. No one laughed, though.

“One of you, I’m sure, is much better. Who wants to try?”

It didn’t take long to find that the older man who’d looked at the cat first sounded exactly like a big cat. “You and me,” Tanda told him. “Tonight the moon sets four palm widths before the sun rises. You and I will sneak into the camp of the God-King’s soldiers. You will go inside the horse lines and then snarl.” She made a claw gesture and everyone laughed, understanding her plan.

“And I will be just outside. As soon as the horses start running they will smell the blood that covers me. They won’t stop running for the next moon!”

She looked around. “Tomorrow, before sunup, the rest of you will be scattered around the desert. Do not kill the soldiers of the God-King. Kill their horses. Shoot any horse they try to bring back to camp, then return there,” she pointed at the gap a few miles ahead.

“I thought Lord Tuck didn’t want these men attacked?” someone asked.

“No, he said he didn’t want them destroyed. We want them to think we fear them. We shoot horses, but not the God-King’s soldiers. Tomorrow, we will shoot a few of the soldiers too, and then they will react and we will withdraw. A great victory for the God-King!”

Everyone laughed at that.

Tanda nodded. “And those men,” she pointed in the direction of the Mexicotál camp, “will continue south with tales of wild Ruthani who can hide and run really well, and no soldier of the God-King need fear them. But we know the truth, eh, cousins?”

Later, before she and the other went out, one by one the men came up and would clasp her hand, as men did to a war leader, before a battle.

The last man was the man who would go with her. When he placed his hand in hers, she could feel something there. The last rays of the moon shed enough light to see it was the claws from the cat.

“Yours by right, Tanda Havra!”

* * *

No plan, Tuck had said, and as she’d heard at the University, ever survives contact with the enemy. She and her companion were a hundred yards from the camp, although well separated, when an errant breeze sprang up, blowing from Tanda to the horse lines.

One of the horses lifted its head and screamed a warning. A heartbeat later, fifty horses bolted in every direction. Her companion screamed in the night, adding to the terror of the horses.

Sure enough, the God-King’s soldiers reacted by firing in the direction of the scream. Her task done, Tanda withdrew with care, staying low. Her companion appeared, grinning. “Not my best.”

“It will do,” she told him.

He held out his hand and again clasped hers. “I am called Lion. I was called that even as a boy, after I killed my first cat with a crossbow. I killed it easily because it was busy eating my brother. Since then, villages call on me when the great cats start hunting their people.” He let her hand go. “Long ago, I stole a musket from a sleeping Zarthani. Later, I stole a rifle from a sleeping Hostigi. I do not, Tanda Havra, hunt the cats with a knife!”

He waved at the God-King’s camp, two miles away across the desert floor. Occasional shots were still being fired, and the fires were flaring high. “This, Tanda Havra! I never expected to live to see this day! I would offer to fight any of my brothers in your name, but you don’t need my help with them! Besides, now they are more afraid of you than all the soldiers of the God-King!”


	24. Seeing the Elephant

I

Tanda nodded to Tuck as she led her men through the main gate and into Xipototec.

She saluted like a proper Hostigi officer and delivered her formal report. He saluted back and told her to dismiss her men. She did, and then turned back to him.

Tuck smiled at her. “You will find your room in the palace untouched...except a bath has been laid and there are clean linens on the bed.”

“None of the blood is mine,” she told him, her head held high with pride.

“I didn’t think it was,” Tuck replied. “But it’s at least a moon quarter old.”

She laughed. “I need a bath. I can sleep later.”

“As you wish. You say you found what I was looking for?”

“Yes, a dozen Ruthani are still there, to report any movements. So far, there are none.”

Tuck noticed one of the Ruthani standing close to Tanda. He was an older man, but most interestingly, he sported a dozen necklaces of what Tuck was sure were lion claws.

Tanda saw him looking at Lion and smiled to herself. “Tuck, this is someone I want you to meet.”

Tuck nodded at Lion and stuck out his hand. “Pleased.”

Lion shook hands with Tuck.

“You know how things are intensified in fighting?” Tanda went on.

Tuck looked at her, curious. But he did nod.

“Lion is a very special man.”

“And Tanda is very special to me,” Lion echoed.

Tanda saw Tuck’s throat work. She had to be quick, she knew.

Lion must have sensed it, too. He dropped a hand on Tanda’s shoulder. “Tanda Havra told me of her mother’s death in childbirth. She told me of her father disowning her. I could not let one such as her go through life alone. That, and I know Manistewa. He is not fit for one such as Tanda Havra–he isn’t a bad man, just not good enough.”

“Lion has adopted me,” Tanda said quickly, sensing that Tuck had just about realized where the conversation was going.

Lion nudged Tanda. “Show him, daughter, show him!”

She pulled the pouch from her belt and handed it to Tuck. 

He opened it and pulled out a lion claw necklace and ran his fingers over the claws. “Pretty big cat,” Tuck said, nodding.

Lion grunted disdainfully. “I have killed larger. Once.”

The last word had been considerably delayed. “But I shot it–my daughter killed hers with a knife.”

“Snuck up on it in daylight and slit its throat, right? From behind?” Tuck asked.

Lion nodded.

“I was lucky,” Tuck told Lion. “It was dark, not light, she was coming at me from the front and I made her drop her knife, first thing.” Tuck smiled at Lion. “You seem like an intelligent man, you probably are a good father.”

“Many daughters,” Lion said proudly, “many sons.” A sly grin and he added, “Many, many, many wives.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Tanda said, wanting to hold her sides from the laughter she contained.

It was impossible, the three of them broke into laughter together. Lion hugged Tuck, and then Tanda took herself off to her bath.

Later, she quickly explained the position she’d found. “More than a moon quarter’s march to the south?” he asked.

“Yes, a very slow march. They left a couple of stragglers as it was.”

“And the attack on their camp?”

“A small party of cavalry joined them. I didn’t want those cavalry troopers riding around. So we killed or ran off their horses. We did kill a few soldiers as well, but we made the horses a particular target.”

Tuck nodded. “It has gone well here. We were very careful with the training. Very limited goals. You could probably hear the trainees banging away at targets as you came in.”

“At first I was afraid the God-King’s soldiers were here ahead of us,” Tanda admitted. “There was a lot of shooting.”

“Yes. We have seven thousand men now who know right from left and who can load, aim, and fire their rifles. They can line up, they can count to four, and they are very eager to meet the God-King’s soldiers.”

Tuck smiled. “We will march day after tomorrow. Hopefully we will get to the ambush site before the God-King’s men can. Otherwise, you said there were a few other places, just not as good.”

“Yes, Tuck.”

“And, keeping on with the good news, not only do we have seven thousand men who can march and shoot, we’ve trained another three thousand more to shoot. We have pulled out about two dozen of the smartest Mexicotál and made them corporals. They have spent the last three days learning how to train. I’m hoping they will be able to train a couple of thousand men a moon quarter to shoot. They’ll stay behind and train people to defend the walls. With luck, we’ll have five or six thousand people who can stand on the walls and shoot at an attacker.

“Tazi and Lady Judy?” Tanda asked.

Tuck laughed. “Lady Judy wanted to call her people something nasty. I convinced her that ‘Throat-Cutters’ is nasty enough. You are going to like them. Judy and Tazi run them out into the desert, first thing every morning. They run and shoot, shoot and run. Vosper has given them some bayonet drills, others have taught them other things. They are very quick to learn.”

“And Hestius?” Tanda asked.

“He runs along behind, carrying a great, long cane. If anyone slows down, he spanks them.”

Tuck paused and looked at her. “Did you see Zokala before you left?”

Tanda shook her head.

“She’s Vertax’s daughter,” Tuck told her. “Vertax painted her face, like the God-King’s priests do for those to be sacrificed. Since then, all of Lady Judy’s Mexicotál recruits have painted their faces the same way. It’s a matter of pride. More and more of the Mexicotál army recruits are doing it as well.”

Tanda felt cold. “Won’t the God-King’s priests sacrifice them first?”

Tuck looked at her steadily and Tanda understood then. The Mexicotál were saying victory or death. Of course, since they were in revolt against the God-King, it would have been victory or death anyway.

Much later she walked on through the town, coming at last to a rooftop. A woman smiled at her, bowed and vanished down the stairway that had led here. Tanda sat down and keyed her transmitter.

When someone answered she simply asked to speak to Chief Hadron.

It took a few moments, and then the now familiar voice sounded in her ear. “Tanda Havra?”

“You heard that Tuck took the town.”

“Yes, I heard that. He’s training up serfs and slaves to be soldiers.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been told or have heard about this.”

“Not much. You understand, Tanda, that his chances there are somewhere between slim and none?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, none of you know what you’re talking about. It’s going to blow apart, Chief. Blow apart like what has happened now and again. Chief, Tuck told me he was going to give me a wedding present. He was going to finish the war by the winter solstice.”

Chief Hadron was silent for a moment. “I think that was bravado.”

“Chief, he wants to marry me, and he wants to keep his charges safe. He’s serious. Deadly serious. I think he believes he’s going to kill a whole lot of birds with one stone. Keep his girls safe, make the world safe for democracy and give the High King a present large enough to guarantee a warm welcome, regardless of Tuck’s origin.”

“You haven’t heard, have you?” the chief told her.

“Heard what?”

“The Zarthani and Mexicotál alliance is pretty much shattered. The siege at Outpost is broken, the Zarthani and Mexicotál are retreating separately.”

Tanda fought down the urge to run and tell Tuck. “Chief, that wasn’t an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t. But Tuck had almost nothing to do with it.”

Tanda snorted in derision.

“Okay,” the chief said with a laugh, “maybe he did have something to do with it. But look where he is now...everything that is going to happen now is going to happen a thousand miles to his east.”

“Chief, I’m just reporting what I know. Now, I’m going to report something else. The Mexicotál former serfs and slaves are painting their faces like their priests would paint them before a sacrifice. They are committing themselves to victory or death. Tuck, Chief, is teaching them the tools for victory. I think what is going to happen here will be even more dramatic than what the High King did ten years ago.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Many peoples have painted themselves before battle.”

“Chief, this isn’t for good luck or anything, this is an in-your-face warning to the God-King’s entire power structure. There was an officer of the God-King’s here that turned his coat because he couldn’t stomach what was going on. What will happen to the God-King’s armies when they see the people opposing them painted like this? What will happen in the cities and towns the God-King controls when they hear what’s going on? Ma’am, I submit that you don’t have a handle on it. That no one has a handle on it.”

The chief Paracop sighed. “It’s catalysis...not something you’ve heard before.”

“Technical,” Tanda said, spitting on the ground.

“Technical,” the chief agreed. “Chemistry is a description of how the different physical parts of the world react with each other. Water, air, things like that.”

Tanda was silent and after a short pause Chief Hadron went on.

“In the usual way of things, you take a little hydrogen, half as much oxygen and you get water. Hydrogen isn’t something you’re likely to know about, but oxygen is what is in the air that you breathe–it’s what makes your body work. Your body burns the food you eat using the oxygen to produce energy to get things done. A little of this, a little of that...and you get something else. Sometimes the mixing releases heat, sometimes it takes heat. A plus B equals AB. Simple.”

“I understand.”

“Good. A catalyst is something that makes A plus B happen without needing anything else. C facilitates A and B. Moreover, C remains unchanged and ready to do it again and again. Tuck is a catalyst. He’s going to change everything and be relatively unchanged.”

“That certainly sounds like Tuck, Chief,” Tanda told her.

“The problem,” the chief replied, “is that this will be a wild reaction. Usually in chemistry you know what will happen. People aren’t like chemicals...they do strange things. There is simply no telling how Tuck’s changes are going to turn out.”

Tanda laughed. “I think that was what I was trying to say.”

II

Judy watched Tazi hug Tanda Havra, then smiled as the two walked off a ways to talk.

Hestius appeared at Judy’s side. His eyes widened when he looked at the two women. “Do you see Tanda Havra’s necklace?”

“Some sort of claws.”

“Lion claws. Only someone who has killed one of the great lions may wear such a necklace.”

Judy smiled slightly. “Tanda Havra. Kills-From-Behind.”

Judy turned serious. “And what? Are we on a holiday? Get everyone turned out!”

Hestius grinned and a moment later, his whistle pipped.

In a finger width, thirty-five Mexicotál stood at what passed for attention in Tuck’s army.

It was something Judy was still getting used to. The former Mexicotál slaves and serfs treated their issued pants and shirts as Sunday best. Mostly, when they turned out, they wore very little. Certainly, nothing above the waist, and not much below the waist.

Tanda Havra walked over to Judy, looking over the young people in front of her. She didn’t say a word, but every eye was on her. Tanda gestured at the camp gate and spoke to Judy, “You run, every day, yes?”

“Yes, Tanda.”

“Come, let us run, then.”

They started running, out the gate and through the cornfields. It didn’t take long before they were in the desert.

Abruptly, like ghosts, Ruthani arose out of the desert around them, and joined them, running easily, some on either side.

Judy cursed at not having seen them first.

Tanda looked at her, but didn’t laugh. “Lady Judy, could we stop? Could I show your people a special way to run?”

“Sure.” She gave the command to slow, and a few paces later everyone stopped.

None were breathing hard...those who couldn’t run had long since been sent away.

Tanda Havra waved at them. “You run well. You run very well. When you are running to overtake an enemy, you would do very, very well! However, there are times that you want to shake their confidence. Make them fear you! I will show you how to run to put the fear into those you chase!”

Judy thought Tanda was a little disappointed when Hestius translated; there wasn’t much show of spirit.

Still, Tanda kept on. She talked with Hestius for a few heartbeats, learned that they knew right and left, turn and march, then run.

“Tell them to turn right,” Tanda told Hestius.

“Right!” Hestius called, and at once the rifles they carried in their right hands were lifted slightly off the ground. “Turn!” Hestius commanded. The movement wasn’t militarily crisp, but everyone turned in the right direction.

“Right foot up,” Tanda told them.

Hestius looked at her. “Tanda Havra, the only commands they know from this position is to march, run or stop.”

“Just explain, okay?”

The troop promptly lifted their right feet.

“Now, right foot down, left foot up,” Tanda told him.

Again, they did it.

In a finger width, they were marching forward, but not in step which Judy had finally realized was what Tanda was after. She wished she could have explained to Tanda that marching in step was something Tuck and the Hostigi officers had said could wait until later.

They stopped and Tanda Havra had Hestius showing the Mexicotál how to skip to get in step. They tried it again. There was a lot of skipping, but pretty soon, most everyone was in step, walking forward. Zokala was an acting corporal, and she would lightly tap those out of step with a cane, and within a mile, everyone was in step. Tanda Havra been calling, “Right” and “Left” and everyone was pretty much in step.

Then Tanda halted them and spoke again. “Now, we will run. Listen to my call, speed up and lengthen your stride to match it!”

Hestius translated again, and then Tanda got them moving, starting slowly, and then gradually increasing speed. When they hit the right pace, it was electric. Everyone could hear it. Most feet were hitting at exactly the same time. A single, clear sound. And, truth be known, a little scary, Judy thought.

The Ruthani had been running alongside them, now they too fell into the same step. They ran for three miles like that, without a word before Tanda Havra stopped them.

“Now! Now you know one more thing that will put fear into the hearts of the God-King’s soldiers!”

This time there were cheers when Hestius translated it.

Tanda turned to Judy again. “Another exercise?”

“Please,” Judy said, pleased. “Whatever you think will help.”

“Have you practiced trying to capture prisoners?”

Judy shook her head. “First we learned to march, then run, then shoot.”

“Time, then, for a little practice for your duties.” Tanda turned to an older man, a man who had a simply unbelievable number of lion claw necklaces and said something to him. The man looked over the Ruthani, and motioned to two of the younger men. A few more words and the two young men ran off into the desert, behind the group.

“They will hide,” Tanda told Judy's troops.

The man said something to Tanda and she laughed. He too sprinted into the desert.

Tanda explained to Judy’s company through Hestius what was expected. “Three men are hiding behind you, along the way we came. None will be more than two hundred paces from your trail. None will be closer than five hundred paces from where we stand now, none further than a thousand paces. They will simply be still. If you see one of them, stand and point.”

It wasn’t but a few moments until, from behind them, came a harsh rasping cough.

“If you should ever hear that call again, Lady Judy, be careful!” Tanda told her. “That is one of the great mountain cats. Be ready!”

Judy nodded, and in a finger width she had her people spread out. They filtered forward slowly, looking for the hiding Ruthani.

It was a simple thing. She saw Hestius’ eyes were moving across the desert and then they stopped. She followed his glance, and at first didn’t see the shape lying behind a small bush.

Hestius though, didn’t say anything. Judy didn’t think Tazi noticed either, certainly none of her other recruits saw the shape.

She felt more than heard a movement next to her a few heartbeats later and saw the man with the lion claws. Except the claws were gone, probably, Judy thought, into the fat pouch on his belt. He was dustier than he’d been, too.

He grinned and pointed to a saguaro cactus and mimed hugging it.

When the recruits had gone through the area, they turned on command and Tanda had the two Ruthani that everyone except Hestius had missed stand up.

For the next three palm widths they did the exercise, over and over again. When her people were routinely finding the first two, three more Ruthani were chosen. Obviously, Judy thought, first they had looked for the ones who weren’t as good as the others, because the next three men were much harder to find. She never saw Lion, the man with the claws, not so much as once, except for the first time. No matter how many saguaros she closely inspected.

It was a significantly more sober group that returned to the camp, shortly after High Sun. Tanda had waved goodbye and stayed outside with the Ruthani, while the rest of them filed in. The meals were never very boisterous, now everyone, it seemed, was thinking about how hard it had been to find the Ruthani hiding in the desert.

She spent some time with Hestius and Tazi making plans for their own exercises when the word was passed that there would be a council of war just before sundown, while everyone else was to get ready to march south at first light in the morning.

III

Legios threw his leg over the cantle of his saddle and dropped to the ground. Only the presence of Brigadier Markos a few steps away kept him from groaning in pain. He saluted and handed the map to his commander.

To the west, there was still a little light left in the sky, but not much. Half a dozen men stood around with flares to provide the brigadier with enough light to read. He quickly looked at the map, before turning back to Legios.

“Very good, Ensign. Put your horse in the corral and then get some sleep. It is going to be a long night, I’m afraid.”

Legios saluted again and hurried to the corral, the horse trailing docilely along behind him. He turned the horse over to an old horse sergeant at the corral gate.

“This one is mine,” Legios told the sergeant.

The sergeant looked at the horse, then at Legios. “Who’d ya steal him from, eh Ensign?”

“Captain-General Hestophes,” Legios replied.

The old sergeant laughed. “Ah, another lad corrupted by the Sixth Mounted Rifles! He’ll be here, Ensign, when you need him! Ya have my word on it!”

Legios found a spot a few yards away from the corral, the area already dotted with sleeping forms. He pulled his blanket over himself, pillowed his head on a rock and slept almost at once.

It seemed like someone was shaking him awake the instant he’d closed his eyes. Legios groaned and opened his eyes. A corporal grinned. “Brigadier’s compliments, sir. See him at once.”

Legios glanced at the sky. It was dark, only a little past the middle of the night. He’d had perhaps two palm widths of sleep.

Legios took a drink from his canteen and when he did, he realized it was nearly empty. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember once drinking from it the day before.

He rushed to Brigadier Markos, who was in conference with another officer. When the brigadier finished, he gestured to Legios, and the two of them walked a short ways forward.

Legios was a little nervous, knowing they were getting close to the edge of the cliff. True, the fall would only be fifty feet or so, but he didn’t want to end his days falling off a cliff in the dark.

“Below us, Ensign, do you see there?” the brigadier pointed northwest at the base of the mesa. There was a group of flares and Legios could see men working in the light they provided. Working on the road, Legios thought.

“And now, at our feet,” again Markos pointed, and again Legios could see another party of engineers working with flares.

“The way engineers build a road like this is to mark the course, then build from both ends. That way they build faster, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The men at our feet need an officer. They lost theirs earlier this evening. Go back, Ensign, to the path they’ve cut up here, then follow the path around to these men below us.

“All you have to do is listen to Sergeant of Engineers Lenardes; he knows what he’s about. Your task is to keep people from bothering the good sergeant and his men as they work. If anyone has any questions about the work, you tell them to come see me.” The brigadier grinned wolfishly. “You can tell them I received my orders personally from the captain-general and that you received yours directly from me. The road is important, Ensign,” the brigadier repeated. Then he turned to someone else, and started talking about supply points for the coming battle.

Obviously, Legios was dismissed.

He turned and hurried down the path. The “path” stayed a path for only a few feet, and then it became a narrow road, carved into the side of the hill. He passed through one group of engineers and kept going towards the others, about a quarter of a mile away. Legios glanced along the road. A few hundred feet away a company of men were busy digging a battery position; not the men he was supposed to oversee. He walked quickly along a faint trail, finding the working party by simply following the sounds of picks and shovels hitting rock. 

A soldier with a rifle carried at port arms looked at him warily, and the ensign asked, “Sergeant Lenardes?”

The guard gestured towards a thickset, burly man giving directions to half a dozen others. 

The sergeant nodded at Legios, and explained that they were working on a section of the road, working to meet another company of engineers, working towards them. “Couple of times, we’ve gotten complaints from captains that we’re disturbing the beauty sleep of their companies. That’s your job, sir. Keeping them happy.” The sergeant waved ahead, at the torch lit area where the work was going on.

“Sir, Lieutenant Ahardes was a nervous sort, and he couldn’t stand still. He was curious, sir, and walked around a lot. He walked behind one of the pick men, who didn’t know he was there.” 

Legios watched the pick men swinging the picks over the tops of their heads, and then back down. Legios felt ill. 

“So if you would, sir, please just stand still, well out of the way.”

Legios nodded, although he didn’t know how he was going to accomplish that. If he stopped moving for long he was going to fall asleep, standing or not. But the vision of the pick men went a long way towards waking him up. He decided that what he would do would be to follow the sergeant around and watch what he did. He himself had never wanted to be an engineer and watching these men work, confirmed that opinion. These men worked hard! 

He mentioned that at one point to the sergeant, who laughed. “And tomorrow, Ensign, when the Mexicotál come? My men and I will be asleep, someplace in the shade. If you do your job right, no one will come and bother us.”

The sergeant grinned and Legios nodded in understanding. The engineers were reserves, and they’d spend a couple of days working, then rest during the battle. Could he sleep during a battle? He doubted it! Of course, maybe to Sergeant Lenardes and his men it was old hat.

Two palm widths before dawn, two men came up to the sergeant. “It looks like a little itty-bitty rock,” one of the corporals told his sergeant, “but when we started trying to dig it out, we found it’s not small. And it’s in a bad place. We are either going to have to reroute or blow it.”

They moved down to where a group of men were standing around the tip of a solid piece of rock, staring at it morosely. Legios measured it with his eye; obviously only a small piece had shown before. He looked at the hillside above them. A buttress of rock stuck out, there was a solid face just a few feet away. Below them, the hillside dropped steeply.

“We’ll blow it,” the sergeant said without hesitation. “Kouric, Stemic, round up your lads. Find out who’s below us, if anyone. Find out who’s around. Deimos, let the brigadier know we’re going to have to blow a rock. It won’t be a very big bang, but it will sound loud in the dark! Tell him, in half a palm width.”

Men moved off, and the sergeant gestured to the other men. “You get working there!” He turned to one of the others. “Fetch my hammer and chisel from my bag.” The man ran to obey. 

Legios watched wide-eyed as the sergeant dug a small hole to one side of the rock buried in the ground, then very quickly and competently drilled a hole in the rock itself. 

Legios saw the sergeant stand, look around, then grin at him. “Okay, everyone else knock off and get back to the safety line!”

Legios had heard the sergeant talking earlier about the safety line with one of the younger sergeants. Now all of the men stopped working and moved away. Another corporal appeared from the dark, carrying a small bundle, another with a roll of something that stretched back into the dark. They put their loads down carefully and then they too vanished back into the night. 

“I’m going to set the charge,” Sergeant Lenardes told Legios, who shrugged, not understanding what was going on, but curious nonetheless.

The sergeant went to his knees, digging into the larger knapsack. He poured dark powder into the hole he’d drilled into the rock, measuring the amount carefully, Legios thought. The sergeant took what looked like clay and plugged the last bit of hole, then took the small bundle from the other pack and unwound a few more feet from it. Fuse, Legios thought, entranced.

Sergeant Lenardes glanced at him, and then the sergeant was busy carefully pushing the heavy fuse through the clay. The sergeant pointed to a few small rocks, and Legios brought them to him, like a young boy bringing tools to his father. The sergeant carefully set the rocks so that the fuse ran in a crack between them. Finally the two of them were lifting larger rocks, careful not to set them on the fuse. 

For the first time Legios asked a question. “Why the rocks, sergeant?” 

The veteran engineer grinned. “Explosions are like small children, Ensign. They follow the line of least resistance. They don’t like even a little bit of it, when they meet it. I could stack a hundred pounds of fireseed on that rock, set it off and just color the surface. It would make Styphon’s Hell of a racket, though. With the rocks, the explosion will be, just for a moment, trapped. And will work equally on the rock in the ground as the ones above it.” He began paying out the fuse, until they were about a hundred yards away.

“This fuse is supposed to burn a yard in a heartbeat,” the sergeant told Legios. “We have, thus, a hundred heartbeats to get further away. The fireseed maker’s guild uses only masters to make fuse. Even so, I’ve seen it go out. I’ve seen it burn at half the rate. A third the rate. I’ve seen it flash the entire length so fast, you didn’t have time to blink.”

“Is everyone ready?” Sergeant Lenardes called to his junior sergeant, further back. The man waved that they were. “Okay, we’ll proceed.”

He turned to Legios. “Just remember sir, I’m going to be running pretty damn fast for the first couple of hundred yards. You’ll want to be out of the way or quicker.”

With that he leaned down, took a striker from a bag, and flicked it. A spark shot out, then a flame. There was a hiss and the fuse started burning. “Now, sir!” The two of them took off running back along the road, side by side. 

It was anti-climactic. They pulled up, a quarter mile off. “Well?” Sergeant Lenardes asked one of his men.

“Went off a few heartbeats ago,” the corporal opined.

He hadn’t even heard it? Legios was chagrined, but the sergeant didn’t seem to have heard it either. The sergeant gestured the way they had come and Legios and the others followed him back at a more sedate pace. The sergeant looked at the place where the charge had been set. The rocks, so laboriously piled on top, had been tossed around. The recalcitrant rock was shattered into pieces. They stood looking at it for a few moments, then the sergeant turned to Legios.

“Are you aware of the High King’s Field Regulations as they apply to demolitions?” Legios shook his head. “They state, quite unequivocally, that an officer shall supervise all field demolitions. I didn’t think you knew that, though.”

“I was curious, Sergeant,” was all Legios could think of saying; that and he’d been desperate to find a way to stay awake another few finger widths.

“Well, we’ve spent enough time on this!” the sergeant said. He reached inside his jerkin and blew a sharp blast on his whistle. Men appeared from the darkness. Half a dozen began to heave the rocks away from the blast site, while the rest went back to work on the road.

The sergeant was directing men to work on the hole left by the blast, it was quickly filled with gravel and smoothed over. 

Out of the darkness a voice said gruffly, “Who commands here?” 

Legios spoke, “I command.” It was a palpable lie, but it came unforced from his lips.

The other strode into the light, a senior captain. “How can my men sleep with explosions? What are you doing here?”

“We’re building a road, Captain,” Legios said patiently.

“A road? Here?” the other snorted. “On whose authority?”

“Brigadier Markos,” Legios said. It was on the tip of his tongue to add that it was on the authority of the captain-general himself. The captain’s demeanor and attitude stayed his tongue. Let the captain learn for himself whose road this was! 

The other held Legios’ eye for a moment. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll be on report to the brigadier! It is important that my men sleep–they have a battle to fight tomorrow! You, on the other hand, don’t look like an officer, don’t smell like an officer, and this...” He waved at the men working, “makes too much noise!”

“I’ll share your concerns with the brigadier when I see him at dawn,” Legios heard himself say. Deep inside he could not believe he was saying these things to a man old enough to be his father, one of the captains of the Sixth Mounted.

“You do that! Be assured as well, so will I!”

The other stalked back into the darkness, and Sergeant Lenardes appeared at his elbow. “Any orders, sir?”

“Carry on, Sergeant.” Legios had heard that a thousand times. It was the first time for him, and it sounded good. Very good. 

The sergeant startled him by saluting. “Yes, sir.”

A palm width later they turned the corner of the hill, and saw the torches of the other party, not far away. The sergeant let out a grunt. “Now Sergeant Lamastones will be insufferable! Half again the footage we’ve managed!”

“Probably didn’t have as many rocks,” Legios growled. The sergeant laughed and called to the men, who seemed to redouble their efforts.

A tall officer, better dressed than most, came out of the darkness. “I’m Colonel Nicomoth–are you Legios?”

Legios nodded and the other pointed a finger at him. “Get some rest, Ensign! Attend the brigadier at dawn. Your bivouac is with the other staff ensigns?” Again Legios nodded. “Sergeant, send a runner a half palm width before dawn to wake the ensign.”

“Yes, Colonel.” 

“Get some sleep, Legios. I’ll handle this from here on.” 

Legios walked back along the road. It had seemed to stretch on forever when they’d been working on it. Now, it took just a few moments and he was back where he’d been when he’d last awoken. He sank down onto his blanket and was asleep a moment later.

Someone was shaking him, and Legios awoke, more stiff and sore than before. “Sir, I was sent to wake you,” a private said apologetically.

“I’m awake,” Legios replied. He munched a bit of jerky as he walked to the HQ area. Brigadier Markos was, as yesterday, talking with one person after another. He saw Legios, and then finished up his conversation with the officer who’d been talking to him. That was, Legios thought, himself in a nutshell. The one who arrived late. The brigadier turned to Legios.

The brigadier sent the others off. “A palm width break,” Brigadier Markos announced to the assembled staff. “Get something to eat, take care of personal needs, get some rest.” The crowd dispersed and the brigadier gestured to Legios. “Walk with me.” The brigadier led the way from the HQ area, walking along the path that led to the south where once again they looked over what was surely going to be a battlefield soon. 

After a bit Markos stopped. “Tired?”

“Yes, sir. I got some sleep, though.”

“Good.” The brigadier gestured out towards the south. “Someplace out there, four or five miles away, the Mexicotál are forming up.” Both he and Legios glanced to the south and east, where the light of the morning was slowly growing. “We’ll know for sure in little more than a palm width.”

The brigadier looked at Legios. “Later this morning the God-King’s soldiers will almost certainly attack. And they will almost certainly attack us here. That is what the captain-general thinks and so do I.”

“Yes, sir.” Legios was unsure what this was about; he’d never had more than a dozen words from the brigadier before, except when he was given a message.

Brigadier Markos showed a wintry grin. “You’re young. You haven’t seen the elephant.”

“Sir? Elephant?”

Legios’ superior laughed. “I don’t know what an elephant is either. It’s something the High King uses to describe your first experience in battle. Seeing the elephant.” Legios was silent.

“The captain-general messaged me yesterday that he’d thought you’d done your duties very well and that perhaps it was time for you to move on. I gave you another task, one you were absolutely, completely unsuited for.”

Again he paused, and again Legios couldn’t think of a thing to say. “It’s odd how people form such different impressions of people they meet. I’ve seen you a hundred times–just another ensign. The captain-general said you did good. Sergeant Lenardes said you did very good. Already this morning I have a request from Colonel Count Nicomoth of the Engineers for you to be assigned to him–from Nicomoth, that is high praise indeed.

“Captain Hotha, on the other hand, ranted and railed about your callous disregard for his troops; men trying to get some rest before the battle.” He turned to Legios. “Would you like to see the elephant, Ensign?”

“Sir, I’ve always wanted to do my duty.”

The brigadier nodded somberly. “Your father is a grain merchant, is that right?”

Legios could only shrug in return. “Yes, sir.” Legios wasn’t just a younger son, he was the youngest of four sons. Service to the High King was his one chance for advancement.

“My junior aide has the ague...he sits in his blankets and trembles,” Brigadier Markos told Legios roughly. “The priests tell me he is certain to recover–after the coming battle.” He looked at Legios, their eyes locking. “My junior aide stands at my left elbow during the battle, and during a battle his duty is to guard my left side. That and nothing more.”

“Me, sir?”

“You, Ensign,” the other replied flatly.

“Yes, sir,” Legios replied simply.

Brigadier Markos flashed Legios a grin and held out his hand. Legios shook it.

“There is one more thing. The captain-general told me that once you’d seen the elephant, he would appreciate you being assigned into the First Mounted Rifles as a junior lieutenant.”

Legios was stunned, pleased, proud and excited all at once.

IV

Gamelin rested for a moment, leaning against his saddle, while Hellfire grazed a few dozen yards away. To say that the last three moon quarters had been busy was plainly understated. At one time or another, and usually most of them at once, every officer and NCO of Lord Tuck’s force had worked with the Mexicotál recruits, training them to be soldiers of the High King.

First, it had been simple things. Raising the correct hand when a corporal called right or left. Then learning to dress a line, either at short, medium or long intervals. Simple commands, very basic and drilled into the volunteers constantly. The first and last things they did for a palm width every day.

Then rifle drill. Loading, aiming, firing. Teaching them loading their rifles had taken three blessed days, aiming two more, but the grins on the recruit’s faces when they’d actually fired more than made up for the effort that it had taken.

Then followed more drill. Learning to line up to march. Learning to line up to fire. More shooting, more drill, more shooting. An unending series, far more intense than Gamelin had ever seen before.

A lot of the abler sergeants had been pulled from Hostigi companies, either regular or summer soldiers. Then corporals, even privates had been transferred. Those men trained with the Mexicotál recruits, getting to know them. Maybe a third of Lord Tuck’s force was doing that. Moreover, to make up the gaps in their own ranks, more men had been promoted to sergeant and corporal. Every man had heard Lord Tuck promise them that if they did their duty, the promotion would be permanent. Talk about motivated soldiers!

Vosper came in and sank down, putting his butt on the ground next to Gamelin. “The march south,” the old sergeant said, “is going to be a vacation after this. Imagine, just having to march all day!”

Gamelin laughed. “Lord Tuck said we will start each morning with three finger widths of drill, and end each day’s march with the same.”

“A vacation!” Vosper repeated.

“Did you see Lady Judy today?” Gamelin asked, not caring if Vosper knew his concern.

“Aye, after the other day with Tanda Havra, her people are working extra hard. They didn’t do very well, finding Ruthani hiding in the desert. Not at first.”

Gamelin nodded. It was still something that the Hostigi soldiers were learning, too. Several times Lord Tuck had exercises where men were told to find Ruthani or a few of the Mexicotál sneaking into their camps. The ones sneaking in carried water bags and would squirt an unwary guard. Even though the guards were armed only with short canes, there had been a few fights.

Gamelin shook his head. The punishment for starting a fight with someone who squirted you? You had to run down a line of Ruthani and Mexicotál, all armed with water bags. Lord Tuck wanted to make it clear that there were things worse than a squirt of water–the men in the gauntlet used the bags as clubs.

And the one fool who had pulled a knife? He’d run the same gauntlet...only that time he’d faced knives instead of water bags. The man died less than a third of the way down the line. If any had had doubts about Lord Tuck and field discipline as practiced by the High King, those doubts were gone.

“Get some sleep, Lord Gamelin. If you think this has been exhausting, the march will be worse and the battle at the end of it–it will be much, much worse.”

“I wrote my father about Lady Judy,” Gamelin told him.

“As you’ve said before, sir. Relax, Lieutenant. Lady Judy is someone any man with two eyes and a brain can appreciate. You are a very, very lucky man to have won her heart.”

“I can’t help worrying.”

“Sleep, sir! You’ll need it!”

Vosper was, of course, quite right. By nightfall the next day, he was even more tired. Worse, his company had guard duty until midnight and he had to supervise.

IV

After that, day, after day, they were marching south. The march had been faster than Gamelin expected. It was clear that a life spent working the fields all day kept a man fit and even the dozen young women with Lady Judy had no trouble keeping up.

Tanda Havra’s Ruthani would appear at first light, then again at High Sun and one last time as the sun kissed the horizon before nightfall.

On the fifth day of the march, Lord Tuck called an early stop and then an officer’s call.

Tanda Havra reported on the position Lord Tuck had picked for the battle. A hill parallel and east of the road, another low ridge that came from the west. There was no easy way, not really, for the God-King’s soldiers to flank them, Gamelin realized.

Then Lord Tuck spoke. “Tomorrow at first light, we will hold a rehearsal. Then again, before the High Sun meal. After we eat, we’ll resume the march south. The God-King’s soldiers took some time to assemble and are now four day’s march south of the place we will meet. We are two day’s march from there. We will arrive in plenty of time to take our positions and rest before the battle.”

Then he’d gone over the dispositions. Gamelin and his company were with nearly six hundred other Hostigi soldiers under Captain Andromoth and would be on the right, dug in on the south-facing ridge, to the right of the gap. Another two hundred Hostigi infantry and the field guns would actually be in the gap.

On the east, the Mexicotál would be in line along the ridge that ran north and south, with the Ruthani on their southern flank, left flank. The mortars were behind the Mexicotál lines.

“Tanda Havra reports that they have a van of about six hundred men. The field guns will be dug in and camouflaged. The Mexicotál are not scouting ahead, at least not as of yesterday. The field guns will cut loose at long cannon shot with balls. If nothing else, it will check the advance for a bit.

“Two things are possible. The vanguard will attack at once or they will wait for the main body to come up.” Lord Tuck looked around. “We estimate there are two divisions of the God-King’s troops–call it twenty thousand of them. Their supplies and artillery are at the rear of the column, which is two miles long.

“If they attack, the field guns will have already switched to case shot. You should be able to get two volleys off before their vanguard can close. At the first case shot volley, Captain Andromoth in the center of the gap will commence firing. A single volley of his entire company, then they will shoot at will. Gamelin, you will hold fire until the second case shot volley, then your company will fire at will. By then, if the God-King’s soldiers are still coming, they will be close enough to make each shot count.”

Lord Tuck grinned at them. “That of course, is the first six hundred. After that, we have the rest of their brothers to deal with.

“I suppose it is possible that the God-King’s general commanding could pull back and refuse battle. If that happens, everyone will simply hold their positions, making no moves until they do come against us again. I don’t think they will sit still. Lieutenant Vertax, what do you think?”

The former officer of the God-King stood. “Soldiers of the God-King are exempt from sacrifice. Except cowards. They will attack. Not attacking will not even occur to them.”

Lord Tuck nodded as the man sat back down. Gamelin had grown used to the face paint so many of the Mexicotál wore, but it was still something alien that sent shivers up his spine.

“The gap is a hundred and fifty yards wide. They have about two thousand cavalry, and I expect we’ll see those first. Except it won’t do any good. A hundred and fifty yards is too narrow a front for a general charge. They will have to come at us in column. Ball once again, at long range, then case shot until they stop. The mounted infantry, the same plan as with the vanguard. A single volley from everyone in the center at the first case shot volley, then fire at will. The remainder of the infantry to fire a volley with the second case shot salvo, then fire at will until they break.

“Remind the men, that when they look out at the host of the God-King’s soldiers, that all those soldiers won’t be able to attack at once. That while it looks like we are outnumbered, it is the other way around.

“Then, as the army approaches in column, the recruits, with me in command, will step over the hill in four ranks at wide separation. The first two ranks will kneel. Then, on command, rank by rank, they will fire volleys into the column of soldiers to their front. At the first volley, the mortars will commence. We will keep up the fire until they break.

“After they break, it is most imperative that we don’t pursue. I don’t want so much as one man to move forward. Is that clear?”

There were murmurs of assent.

“Now, any questions?”

Gamelin hated to be the first, but his hand went up anyway. Lord Tuck looked at him. “Lieutenant Gamelin?”

“Lord Tuck, we on the right...what do we do if the God-King’s soldiers spread out and attack us to our front?”

“Engage them. Cavalry would be pretty useless charging the hill, it’s just too steep and rocky. Any competent cavalry commander is going to go for the gap. That’s where the guns are and it would split our battle line. It’s your job to see that doesn’t happen.”

Lord Tuck looked them over. “There is always the chance that the God-King and his soldiers will do something right. Not charge with the cavalry, line up his men in rows and attack. That’s my job, on the left. If worst comes to worst and they refuse battle and begin to maneuver, we will pull back to the north-south ridge. The guns will go here,” he pointed to a gap in the ridgeline, not far from the original positions. “That’s about a quarter of a mile. Captain Andromoth, with Lieutenant Gamelin as second in command, will retreat here,” he marked the right side of the second gap.

“That’s about two miles, for the furthest of Captain Andromoth’s men. They will have to hustle. But, I don’t expect that to happen. What is going to happen is the God-King holds slaves and serfs and the Ruthani in contempt. They know who they will be facing, and we made sure they know. The soldiers of Hostigos, even though they are the core of the army, will not be their target. Their target will be our recruits first and then the Ruthani. They will find out where the Hostigi soldiers are on my schedule. And to their great regret.”

There were more questions, until finally Lord Tuck called the meeting to a close. “I want you to go back to your units. In a finger width I want to speak to everyone. Translators, please be ready. I’ll try to keep it short and simple.”

They formed up not much later. Gamelin and Vosper standing together with their company, part of a vast square of more than eight thousand men and women.

“There is something I’ve kept from you,” Lord Tuck began. The translations were made and there was a buzz of nervous talk. “I’ve kept it from the soldiers of Hostigos, as well as the soldiers of Xipototec.”

The nervous mutters rose more, and Lord Tuck raised his hand. The talk died much slower than usual.

“I talked with Count Errock before we left. He speaks, you see, for the High King. He can do things in High King Kalvan’s name that he couldn’t do himself.” Even Gamelin furrowed his brow, but Vosper nodded in understanding.

“One thing the High King has always reserved to himself, is ability to create new formations for his army.”

Gamelin perked up. Could it be? The thought was enough to send waves of excitement through his body.

“Count Errock told me that if we took Xipototec, I could announce a new formation. I decided to wait until now.

“You are all soldiers of the High King. Now, however, you are soldiers of the High King’s First Southern Rifle Regiment. Our duty is to attack, to assault the God-King’s soldiers and towns, to force them to surrender...those that we don’t kill.”

Lord Tuck had everyone’s attention. “As soldiers of the High King, you are entitled to the benefits the High King gives his soldiers. But, you of Xipototec, as I said before, the High King has confirmed your town in the lands that it tills. Lands to be taken will have to be new land or land that the High King sets aside for his soldiers, as is his custom. The High King intends to confirm any town that rises up in his name, in their own lands. Those towns will be able to choose for themselves how they will divide their land. They may continue to hold it in common for the benefit of all; they may elect to divide it among the people of the town. It will be for the people of each town to decide how they will do it.”

Lord Tuck smiled. “Soldiers of the High King! I salute you!” He held his rifle over his head and waved it. The square of men starting cheering, loudly and for some time. 

Eventually, Lord Tuck wiggled his rifle and the cheering slowly died away. “One last thing I’ve kept you from,” he shouted. “Let’s eat!”

This time there was laughter amidst the cheers.

Gamelin turned to Vosper who in turn shrugged. “What?” Gamelin asked, as the formations dissolved to get fed.

“A rifle regiment, Lord Gamelin. We’re going to earn our pay and then some,” Vosper replied.

“And the other regiments of the High King’s army don’t?”

Vosper met Gamelin’s eyes, not wanting to say anything disparaging about Lord Tuck, the High King or what they were about. Gamelin nodded in understanding.


	25. Seeing the Elephant II

I

Judy stood next to Tuck, who was looking over the ground they’d be fighting on by noon the next day.

“Picking the right ground used to be half the battle,” Tuck told her. “Robert E. Lee’s biggest mistake of the Civil War was not pressing ahead at Gettysburg and securing the high ground. If he’d have done that, like as not everyone would be using ‘y’all’ in every sentence. His second big mistake was actually fighting the battle in ground that favored the other side, instead of counter-marching towards Washington, DC. Again, the war could have turned out very differently if he’d pulled Meade away from good ground and out onto ground better suited to Lee’s needs.”

Judy nodded. “Speaking of ground, where do you want me?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me your people are as well suited for seeking out the God-King’s men to take prisoners as the Ruthani are?”

Judy could only sigh. “We still have a lot of work to do. We try to train people, but it’s hard to teach ‘watch carefully.’”

“It is. I’ve had a little more luck with the Hostigi regulars, but not much. Ruthani can regularly get into the camp, and even some of the Mexicotál recruits are good at it.”

Tuck waved behind them. There, the Mexicotál, all of them, were either having their face paint freshened, or done up. Judy doubted if any of them were going to go into battle with plain faces.

“Even the ones good at sneaking, though,” Tuck went on, not aware of what Judy had been thinking, “can’t do much better at finding other sneakers.”

“You’re good at it.”

“When I was in college, I thought briefly I might have a career as a stage magician. I didn’t. But I learned a lot about misdirection. The army honed that even further. Nothing concentrates the mind better than people shooting at you if they see you.”

He looked out over the ground again and then sighed. “Some day, one of the God-King’s officers is going to notice that whoever commands the Hostigi forces likes raids and ambushes. Then it could get exciting.”

He looked at her and changed to English. “One of the things I’m hoping to get from this battle is practice moving an entire army around by the numbers.”

“I’ve never met anyone who learned as fast as you,” Judy told him.

“You’re not shabby. By the way, I didn’t say this before, but welcome to husband-high. Happy fourteenth.”

Judy giggled. “Gamelin forgot, I think.”

Tuck shook his head. “Gamelin knows he has to wait. Your birthday doesn’t change how he feels about you, how you feel about him, or what the right thing the two of you should do.” He waved towards the south.

“I told Tanda Havra something, now I’m going to tell you. Don’t go rushing things.”

“You told her what?”

“That I was going to give her a wedding present: I’m going to end this war this year, before the winter solstice. Now I’m telling you the same thing. I don’t have much else to give, but I’m giving you and Gamelin the same present. War’s over by winter.”

“How can that possibly be?” Judy asked. “We’re what, a thousand miles from the God-King’s heartland? We’d be lucky to march that far that fast...even without opposition.”

“That’s because you are thinking I’m going to fight fair. I have no intention of fighting fair. Starting tomorrow, all the stops are pulled, Judy. I’m going to take war to the God-King’s men like they’ve never seen or imagined war.”

“I still don’t see how that’s going to help. It’s a long way to where the bastard lives. He’s not going to come and meet us,” Judy said.

“No, that’s true. I am, though, allied with High King Kalvan, who if he doesn’t expect to end the war this year, he expects to wrap it up pretty quickly. He has a wife at risk and children back home...no, he’s going to be ruthless. He offered the Zarthani and the God-King peace. The High King’s enemies just used the time to plot against him. I seriously doubt if they’re going to get another chance.”

Judy realized that the subject had changed. “Okay, my people can’t run around the desert like the Ruthani and either scout or capture prisoners. What do you want us to do?”

“First, targets,” he told her. He reached into his pack and pulled out his binoculars. He pointed along the ridge, about fifty yards away, to an old landslide that had tumbled rocks down the ridge.

“You will go there, you and Hestius. Tomorrow, make notes of the battlefield. Look for the God-King’s officers. If you see one go down, make a note of it. Keep your head down as much as you can, once the shooting starts.

“Hestius will write the notes and keep the maps you make. Do you understand?”

“I don’t get any say in this?”

“No. The only one of your people who can read and write, besides you, is Hestius. That is something you need to think about for the future.

“Tomorrow night, the God-King’s army will be retreating. About six miles south of here is a wash, about fifty or sixty feet deep, about a quarter of a mile wide which makes it a significant military obstacle. The enemy will retreat to the other side. Your people, based on your notes, will go out into the battlefield to scout, assisted by the Ruthani. I want anything written you can find. There are exactly two people with the column who can read Mexicotál: Vertax and his daughter. She, like the rest of your people, will be on the backside of the ridge, out of harm’s way while the battle is in progress, but Zokala will still be relatively close to you. Her father will be on the back side of the ridge near me, getting a lesson in mortar operations.”

Tuck met Judy’s eyes. “Neither of them will be happy to be kept out of the battle, but, for the time being, they are too important to risk.”

“Yes, sir,” Judy said, frustrated. Would she ever get to truly command? Or would there always be someone like Tuck or Gamelin, hovering over her shoulder?

“We’ll need everyone looking over the battlefield tomorrow, once the shooting stops. It has to be quick. As soon as the battle is over, we’re going to start south.”

“South?” Judy asked. “You’re going to attack them again?”

“Yes, but carefully. It’s going to be bright, first thing in the morning, just before sunup. The moon will be up, and we’re going to be coming out of the sun. This ridge runs down to that wash and then peters out. Tanda Havra says we can easily cross it, four or five miles from where the God-King’s soldiers will be forted up. We’ll march all night and then, just before dawn, we’ll attack their camp.”

Judy nodded. Whatever Tuck was planning, it was bound to be devastating. As for herself, she’d be watching what was going on. Twice, she’d seen men killed not far from her, because they weren’t careful, sticking their heads up during a battle. Maybe Tuck wasn’t hovering as much as she thought.

She turned and headed to give Hestius and Tazi the news. Judy was quite certain Tazi wasn’t going to be as enthusiastic about their orders as Hestius. Judy stopped, then, after having taken barely two steps.

Tuck was going to let her watch a battle. Moreover, he wanted her to take notes. He wasn’t just expecting a list of dead officers. He was expecting a report on how things went–yet another test. Another test was Tazi. Hestius was the only one who could help Judy do what she had to do. Tazi was the logical person to leave in charge of the rest of the recruits. Yet, that was going to separate her and Hestius, and Judy was sure that wasn’t going to make Tazi happy. It would be her job as commander to deal with it.

She shook her head as she started moving again. Tuck was eerie, she thought. Everything he did had a purpose, and frequently two or three purposes. He thought at a level well beyond what she was capable of. It seemed effortless. Judy already had some idea of how hard it was to control three dozen people. Controlling thousands of people? Most of whom spoke another language? Awesome!

II

Gamelin tried not to be nervous. He’d seen Judy when they’d broken camp very early, before dawn. Now he and his men were preparing their position. He smiled to himself, remembering Tuck wanting copies of his small shovel made. Maybe they were being made in Outpost now, but they weren’t any use here. It didn’t stop Gamelin from wishing he had them.

Men were digging carefully with their bayonets and scooping out dirt with their hands. It was hot work, but once the bullets started to fly, all knew how important it was going to be to have a place where you could put your head down and ride out the bullet storm.

Captain Andromoth had been by a bit earlier and grunted in approval at what they were doing. “I was worried about the God-King’s artillery,” Captain Andromoth said. “It’s still possible we might face it. It’ll be important for everyone to stay down if they do come up and fire.”

“I understand, sir. We’ve seen enough artillery fire to know how to deal with it,” Gamelin had replied.

“Well, in order for their artillery to get here, first it has to get past Tanda Havra and her Ruthani. Lord Tuck tasked them to kill the artillery horses.”

“Just the horses?” Gamelin said, a little surprised.

“Yes. Clever, really. Guns without horses aren’t going to be much use to them. A bullet won't hurt a cannon, but it will certainly hurt a horse pulling the cannon. I do think I’d rather be part of their cavalry charge against our guns, than to be a horse in their artillery train. I suspect it’s not going to be a good day to be one of the God-King’s artillerymen, either.”

Gamelin looked south. The dust column from the God-King’s vanguard was about four miles away now. A palm width, if they’d have been cavalry of the High King, not much more than that if they’d been the High King’s Mounted Infantry. Lord Tuck, though, was right. They weren’t marching fast and likely wouldn’t come up to the Hostigi positions until High Sun.

Gamelin sniffed. The job of a junior officer was to learn lessons about battle. This lesson was quite clear: if you’re going to march against invaders, you don’t take your time. You hurry and you don’t give them time to prepare against you.

When the God-King’s soldiers were two miles out, everyone was down and ready, their fireseed checked.

Gamelin was the only one of his company with his head up as the God-King’s soldiers approached. Vosper had made it clear what would happen if he saw any other heads appear. The idea, Vosper had said with obvious undertones of threat, was to surprise the God-King’s vanguard.

At a mile, Gamelin could see the cavalry that made up the vanguard clearly. They were moving forward at a slow walk, trying not to get too far in advance of the foot soldiers, now another four miles behind.

“There are no scouts,” Gamelin said softly, making a note to himself. “And there needs to be closer contact between the vanguard and the main body. Not too close, but this is too far...”

The field guns fired their balls. The sound checked the advance of their enemies for a moment. Maybe six or seven men were down; it was obviously a pinprick.

“Up!” Gamelin called as the echoes died away. To his left, in the gap, the call went up from sergeants all along the line. “Ready!”

He counted to himself, watching the God-King’s vanguard steady, then start forward. “Never stop in an ambush,” he muttered to himself.

His eyes turned to the guns, and their officer raised a sword. “Aim!” Gamelin called.

The thunder of the cannon was followed by the thunder from six hundred rifles. The vanguard was now about four hundred yards away, and the combined shock of case shot, even from just a few guns, combined with the rifles, shattered the formation.

A few heartbeats later, Andromoth’s men were firing individually, while the attack had all but stopped. The guns fired again, now just a hundred yards from the much slowed cavalry. Large chunks of the survivors went down, and then the last rifle volley came, emptying half the saddles that still had men in them.

All along the line, Andromoth’s and Gamelin’s men were firing, a steady racket. There was the least bit of wind, and it was favorable, blowing the fireseed smoke behind them.

For the first time, Gamelin saw puffs of smoke from the God-King’s men. He blinked in surprise! They should have fired as soon as they came under fire! Now most of them were dead!

The crackle of rifle fire rose and the few survivors melted away. Only a dozen or so survived, flogging their horses, beating a frantic retreat.

The call to cease firing came and the last shooting stopped. “Report, Vosper!” Gamelin called.

It took but a heartbeat. “No dead, no wounded! The ammunition party is passing out fireseed, shot and patches. Galzar Wolf’s Head! What a battle!”

Gamelin looked at the carnage on the field in front of him. “I should be used to this,” he thought, “I’ve seen it before. Yet, once again, I have this thing growing in my head. There are things I won’t let myself be commanded to do. To waste myself and my men as these were.”

There was a clatter of rocks and Captain Andromoth appeared. “Report, Lieutenant.”

“No deaths, no wounds. Replenishment underway.”

“Very good!” Captain Andromoth waved at the carnage they helped create. “Very good indeed! I had one man shot in the hand!”

“They didn’t return our fire until it was too late,” Gamelin reminded him. 

Captain Andromoth shrugged. “I expect they will next time.”

He returned to his own men and in a few moments, Gamelin could see Andromoth’s report going to Lord Tuck. As expected, though, there was no reply.

Gamelin turned his attention to the advancing soldiers. He couldn’t see that they had slowed at all. The infantry continued on, steadily. The remaining cavalry was behind the infantry, trying to keep pace with the slower foot soldiers. Even as Gamelin watched, the cavalry broke out of line and started moving forward faster, towards them.

The main body was, Gamelin thought, now three miles distant. It would take them more than a palm width before they would be up. The cavalry, though, would be up in finger width.

Vosper saluted. “Lord Gamelin, replenishment is complete. We’ve even passed out extra water. The men were thirsty.”

“And will be thirstier,” Gamelin told him. “Have them go easy on their water.”

Vosper nodded, turned and went along the lines, passing the word.

A messenger came this time from Captain Andromoth. “Expect action in fat finger’s width, Lieutenant.”

“Tell the captain, we’re ready. The plan remains the same?”

“The plan remains the same,” the messenger said, then was off again, back to Captain Andromoth.

Gamelin was astounded. The advancing cavalry was still walking when the first balls flew into them. This time, their target was much more densely packed, and the balls killed a lot more men.

Gamelin contemplated the scene in front of him. The God-King’s cavalry were four hundred yards distant. Long rifle shot, but they were densely packed. He could fire now, and get an extra volley or two in, before the cavalry could close. That could, he thought, make all the difference in the world...

For an instant he thought about what Lord Tuck would say if someone changed his plan. Gamelin grimaced. He’d explain it later. “Prepare to fire!” he called. Vosper cast him a hard look, even as he passed the command. “Ready! Aim! Fire!”

The volley was a little ragged, since no one had been expecting the command to fire to be given so soon. Still, a lot of saddles were suddenly empty ahead of them. A moment later, Andromoth decided Gamelin had the right idea, and his much larger company fired, then the first case shot flew.

The cavalry fired back this time, but Gamelin kept his head down. Not cowardice, he thought, but his job. He would pop up and peek every few heartbeats. It wasn’t as though he was cowering in his hole.

He readied his first pistol, but it was pointless, none of the God-King’s cavalry was headed for them. In fact, when the second blast of case shot went, they were already in headlong flight.

More of the cavalry were trying to aim their shots, but in order to do that, they had to all but stop. Men who all but stopped tended to be shot to rags in an eye blink. The retreat was a stampede of frightened men and horses.

Gamelin was just congratulating himself on another battle won, when there was a solid slam of a rifle volley from the ridge opposite. He gulped, hoping Lady Judy was someplace safe.

He actually stood to look, even though Vosper was telling him to get down.

Ahead of them, almost a mile and a half away, the God-King’s infantry was milling around. A lot of men were down...then another slam of a volley and more of their infantry died.

Gamelin could see officers frantically trying to get their men turned around to face the threat from their flank. Mortar shells cut a diagonal line across the column, further adding to the confusion. There were single shots from Lord Tuck’s lines and Gamelin could see enemy officers die. The Mexicotál recruits had been trained to fire on command. The Hostigi among them, sergeants, corporals and the better privates, were sniping at the God-King’s officers.

A third volley racketed over the valley, this time directed further back in the God-King’s lines. A fourth volley.

Gamelin was stunned, when after the fourth volley, he could see the men of Xipototec steadily move back over the hill. As if on command, the last of them vanished. Two heartbeats later the entire line of the God-King’s infantry vanished in a cloud of fireseed smoke.

Gamelin could only blink. They had fired at bare rock! All of them!

As he watched, there was a scream, and the remnants of eighteen thousand soldiers of the God-King started to charge up the hill.

Like an oiled machine, the lines of recruits appeared, marching forward.

Gamelin measured the distance with his eye. The attacking infantry were about fifty yards from the base of the hill. Six hundred feet up the hill. Running uphill on a blazing hot day like this was turning out to be? Two volleys crashed at once, instead of one at a time. Then a third and fourth volley, with a longer gap between them.

The mortars were firing a steady stream of rounds into the moving mass of infantry, doing a good job of keeping on target. There was a continuous rattle of rifle fire from the Hostigi elements, and there was more firing further south that Gamelin couldn’t see. Probably, he thought, Lady Tanda practicing killing horses from in front.

The God-King’s men paused, trying to reload. A bad thing, Gamelin judged. Two more volleys hit them, before they lifted their rifles.

It had to have been a signal, almost all of the Mexicotál recruits flopped on the ground, as if in the grip of the worst bowel-watering disease known! Again, a single volley from the God-King’s men. Again, their officers, now much reduced in number, urged them forward.

The Mexicotál were back on their feet, and the volleys resumed. The next volley stalled the attack, and some of the God-King’s infantry began to head back downhill. A few heartbeats later, another volley put the rest into flight.

The mortars fired just two more salvos, and the riflemen of Xipototec added two more volleys.

Gamelin looked at Vosper, who was sitting on a rock, staring, pretty much as surprised as Gamelin. Vosper looked up at Gamelin. “They not only didn’t run, they held steady.”

He nodded. Vosper stood then. “Lieutenant, we have one dead, two lightly wounded.”

Gamelin pointed at a reliable trooper and the man went to pass on the message to Captain Andromoth.

The God-King’s men were running now, not stopping when they reached the bottom of the hill. They were heading south. Seven or eight thousand, someone said. Gamelin supposed so. But there was no denying that most of the God-King’s soldiers lay dead on the road and on the lower slopes of the hill.

From near where Lord Tuck was supposed to be, a group of people appeared at the top of the ridge and started down. Lady Judy, Gamelin thought. Even as he thought it, he could see her, towering over the others.

Not only her people were moving downhill, but so were chunks of Hostigi regulars from the flanks. Gamelin read a message from Lord Tuck to Andromoth, detaching Gamelin and his men to go forward to police the battlefield.

Captain Andromoth appeared moments later. “Did you see the message?”

Gamelin nodded. Captain Andromoth grinned. “And here you sit! Advance, Lieutenant!”

It was a joke, sort of. You weren’t supposed to read messages sent to someone else, even if they were about you. Gamelin called to Vosper and his men headed down the hill.

“Prisoners?” Gamelin asked, his voice steady. That hadn’t been in the message.

Captain Andromoth shrugged. “Respect Oath to Galzar. Otherwise...give them grace.”

Otherwise kill them, whether they would live or not. “Yes, sir.” Once Gamelin might have objected. Now he’d heard too many stories about sacrifices to the God-King. He’d seen the pyramid in Xipototec, even if it hadn’t been as robust as it once had been and shortly thereafter was gone. The energy and effort of the people tearing it down with just their fingers had been clear enough.

They hadn’t been very high up the hill. Gamelin gave a short speech telling his men what they were to do. There wasn’t the usual humor they took with them to a task. Gamelin went on to warn them that not all of the men below were dead, and might not want to be sacrificed for the God-King.

One of his men ended up with a bullet burn along his ribs; a lot of the God-King’s soldiers, not already dead, died.

He met Lady Judy near a heap of plumed officers. Her people were swarming over the corpses, occasionally bringing something to her. She would, in turn, hand what had been found to Vertax or his daughter.

Gamelin bowed. “You are well, Lady Judy?”

She smiled at him. “I’m well, Lieutenant Gamelin.”

At first he was a little miffed, then realized that a hundred people were within earshot. “How did Lord Tuck fare?”

“About seventy-five casualties all told. Ten of them Hostigi, the rest from Xipototec.”

“A great victory!” Zokala, Vertax’s daughter said, looking up from a piece of paper. She waved it towards her father, and he came and looked at it. Vertax and Lady Judy moved off and spoke in hushed whispers.

Lady Judy fixed her gaze on Gamelin. He wasn’t certain why he was sure this wasn’t a good thing.

“Lieutenant, do you have a signaler?”

“Yes, Lady Judy.”

“I need him, please.”

Gamelin passed the word and Lady Judy looked at the young man with the mirror. “You will learn something important here in a heartbeat. I say to you, this is Lord Tuck’s decision, do you hear? If you talk about it ahead of him, you could wreck everything.”

Gamelin resisted an urge to explode in anger, sure the comment was really directed at him. “I am an officer of the High King. I do not tell the secrets of the High King.”

She wrote something down and handed it to the signaler. The man read it and then started flashing his signal mirror.

Vosper appeared, read a few words of the signal and turned to Gamelin. “Say nothing,” Gamelin told him.

The veteran sergeant shrugged. “As you say, Lord Gamelin. However, a third of our Hostigi soldiers with the First Southern Rifles are on the hills over there. Maybe a dozen of them can read signals. It will be common knowledge before sunset.”

“But not from us,” Gamelin told him.

Vosper bobbed his head. “Yes, Lord Gamelin!”

The signal flashes came back almost at once.

“We’re finished here,” Judy told her people. “Time to head south.”

Captain Andromoth was there as well. “Lieutenant Gamelin, get your men marching through the eastern gap, and then south along the back side of the ridge. Try to catch up to Lord Tuck by midnight. I will be following shortly, as soon as I get the field guns headed south along the road.”

“Yes, sir.” Gamelin replied.

Andromoth shook his head. “I’m getting very tired of clearing roads by moving bodies.”

Gamelin decided to speak up. “Captain, from my perch on the hill, I could see for the next few miles. There aren’t very many gullies ahead. You could move off to the west with the guns. The ground looks good.”

Vosper chimed in. “Captain, there are a few rough spots, but if you just have to clear the road in just those places, it’ll be much faster.”

Captain Andromoth looked pleased. “My men are even more tired of moving piles of dead Mexicotál soldiers than I am.”

“The God-King’s soldiers,” Vertax said from a few feet away.

Captain Andromoth saluted the former officer of the God-King. “Yes! The God-King’s soldiers! Come, we all have things to do!”

III

“General Denethon,” one of his sergeants said, “they’re starting now.”

Denethon heaved himself to his feet and moved a couple of hundred feet away from where the captain-general was standing, looking out over the battlefield. He stayed well away, off to one side.

Captain-General Oaxhan was a bigger fool than Denethon thought, when he came over anyway.

“I am surprised you could find the courage to stir yourself from your tent, General,” Oaxhan pontificated.

The Mexicotál high priest had trailed along behind Oaxhan, but none of the others moved to follow along.

“Even I get up before High Sun, Captain-General. I’m sure the High King’s soldiers appreciate the rest you gave them this morning. They finished with their preparations overnight and were ready when the sun came up.”

Oaxhan, as usual, ignored him. “Brigadier Xorca will lead half of his division against the hill. Today you will see how well the God-King’s soldiers fight!”

That had to be about the stupidest thing Denethon had ever heard a general utter. He was a dead man, he knew it. What did it matter any more? Sure, he had ambition and a woman he loved. But he also had pride! Most important of all, he had a brain to think with and eyes to see with.

“Captain-General, are you saying that until now the God-King’s men haven’t fought well?”

That stung like he knew it would. Oaxhan purpled with rage. Denethon waved at the half division forming up about a mile in front of them, three miles from the Hostigi positions. “Does Brigadier Xorca have a competent second in command?”

“Of course! He marches at his brigadier’s side!”

Denethon openly laughed. “Oh, wonderful! Lose two men qualified to command a division in a single morning’s fight, against entrenched Hostigi skirmishers. Oh wait! Not a morning’s fight because you’ve wasted half the damned day lining them up!”

The captain-general’s rage was a terrible thing to behold. Abruptly the captain-general turned and stalked away from Denethon.

The priest, though, stayed behind. He studied the battlefield, and then turned to Denethon, curious. “I am not a soldier. I know little of war. How is it that you think the God-King’s men will be defeated? They outnumber the Hostigi five times over!”

“Your men are going to march towards the Hostigi over bare, open ground. They can’t hide, there’s nothing they are going to be able to do except fire their rifles, and they will be able to do that only once or twice. The Hostigi have prepared firing positions. They will duck down out of harm’s way except when they rise to shoot. Those are some of the High King’s finest skirmishers–every last man can shoot well. One man in a thousand of the God-King’s soldiers will be lucky and hit someone. Odds are it will be an accident. Half of the High King’s soldiers will hit what they aim at. And it won’t be an accident.

“Every rifle volley the Hostigi fire, a tenth of your soldiers will die. The Hostigi will start shooting at long rifle shot. By the time your men close with them they will have had time to fire ten times or so, each. Eleven and twelve times for some of the swifter men. If Brigadier Xorca presses the attack, this evening you will have four dozen men left from that half division. The Hostigi will have fewer casualties than you have survivors.”

“Everything seems to take much longer than I would have expected,” Gorton said.

“Arrogance, priest. Arrogance. The captain-general doesn’t feel rushed and his officers see that and they don’t rush. All the way down to the rank and file soldiers. Time, priest, time is something as valuable as extra divisions to a general. And like divisions thrown away into the maw of battle, once lost, time can never be regained.”

Two batteries of field guns appeared, galloping to support Brigadier Xorca’s men. Denethon sniffed in derision.

“What?” the priest asked.

“The Hostigi guns will be firing downhill, the elevation allows their guns to shoot further. Firing uphill, the God-King’s gun will have to get closer than they might otherwise have to. Hestophes’ artillery commander is Count Alkides, the best artillery commander in all of the land. Alkides’ men are fast and efficient. They will fire three times to the God-King’s soldiers twice. They will hit their targets twice or more as often.”

“Still, the guns would have an effect...” the priest said, his voice for the first time showing strain.

“Of course. The problem is, firing at the Hostigi guns isn’t going to help Brigadier Xorca get up that hill. And if the God-King’s artillery doesn’t fire on Alkides’ guns, in a palm’s width they will just be twisted rubble.”

The priest looked out over the battlefield. Even as the guns wheeled into position, the Hostigi guns opened fire. His eyes tightened. “It is as you said, General Denethon. Our guns are in the open, without protection, while all I can see of the High King’s guns are their muzzles.”

“This hill, priest, is half the height of the one the Hostigi are on. What do you think your odds of living would be if you had to run up this hill with me shooting at you from behind a rock?”

“Obviously, not very good. I do not even know how to load a pistol.”

“Priest, two things you should do after this battle. Find one of my sergeants. I’ll tell him to give you a couple of pistols and he’ll show you how to load them. He’ll show you how to aim them. Then, well before tomorrow dawns, find yourself a good, fast horse. When it comes apart tomorrow afternoon, ride towards the setting sun for a couple of days, before turning south.”

“The God-King’s men outnumber Hestophes by five to one! It isn’t possible!”

“And Xorca outnumbers his opponents by the same margin! Don’t you think that the captain-general understands? He wants to prove a point. He will, but it will be the opposite of the one he intended.”

In the distance puffs of fireseed smoke appeared on the hill the Hostigi defended. A few moments later came the faint rattle of rifle fire. Even in the first few heartbeats it was clear there were gaps in the ranks of the advancing soldiers.

There were broken guns in the Mexicotál artillery batteries as well. Then a sudden crash as all the Hostigi guns fired as one. Denethon winced as he saw scores of the Mexicotál soldiers go down. Case shot! Case shot at nearly a mile! The soldiers of the God-King started to trot, and a few heartbeats later, broke into a run, as another volley of case shot murdered more of them.

“Our soldiers can run a half mile in full gear in a finger’s width!” the priest said, obviously shaken.

“In a finger’s width the Hostigi can fire their cannon six or eight times, their riflemen will fire perhaps ten or more times.” Denethon said harshly. “Your men will be able to fire once. The alternative is to stop and reload. You have to stop moving forward to reload. Any man who stops on that field dies.”

There was a ragged volley from the advancing Mexicotál soldiers and they seemed to redouble the speed of their advance. There was a fair breeze, keeping visibility adequate.

None of the soldiers got more than halfway up the hill, never closer than a few hundred yards from the Hostigi lines.

Denethon’s voice was harsh. “There you see it. Five thousand men thrown away to prove a braggart’s empty boast.” Denethon touched the priest’s arm. “Come.”

Numb, the priest followed Denethon as he walked up to the crest of the hill. Behind the hill, the rest of the vanguard of the God-King’s army was camped, nearly a quarter million men. Instead of saying anything, Denethon just looked out over the vast array of men, animals and equipment.

It was clear when the message finally got across. “Surely not all of them? Not all of them!” the priest cried in sudden understanding.

“Priest, I’ve fought the God-King’s soldiers. Always, priest, the first thing that would happen would be a demonstration attack, to prove the mettle of the God-King’s soldiers. Always, we piled their bodies high. Then, either later the same day, but usually the next day, whoever commanded the God-King’s soldiers would launch the main attack. Never in the same place, always in some spot that the Mexicotál commander thought was clever and tricky, to prove his worth as a general. Mostly we slaughtered them, too.”

“You had fireseed weapons and we had bows,” the priest protested, his voice bitter.

“Always the same, each and every time, priest. Always. We could count on the same plan, each and every time. Count Quillan, the man I owe more to than any other, would warn us before each battle–some day, in some battle, the God-King’s generals would change their tactics and try to surprise us. We were to be on the watch for that. But it never happened.”

Denethon gestured behind them. “And now, the captain-general is going to attack the Hostigi. Hostigi in prepared positions, Hostigi who will know where the blow will strike. Tell me, priest, why would the results be any different tomorrow than they were today?”

The priest continued to stare at the mass of men. Finally he turned to Denethon. “Understand this: I already told Oaxhan that if any harm befell you or your men, I would have his living heart out a heartbeat later. I told him in the God-King’s name, that to lose the battle tomorrow the same fate awaits him. I thought I was just being over-cautious, I wanted him to concentrate all of his attention on the task ahead of him.”

“Priest, you have forgotten something, as I suspect Oaxhan doesn’t think about at all, so fixated as he is on Hestophes. The disaster I’ve described is possible. Battle has a strange, wonderful, weird beauty; I can’t say it doesn’t. A battle can be going your way and a fluke happens and the next heartbeat you lose. One moment you are losing, a fluke happens and you win. It can all happen. General Oaxhan could win tomorrow, indeed he could.

“Except the captain-general has no idea where High King Kalvan is. If the High King suddenly appears on the field what you saw today could be visited first on these men, then on those following behind us, no matter who wins or loses tomorrow.”

“There are a million men behind us,” the priest reminded Denethon. “Surely, that’s enough.”

Denethon shook his head. “I’m ten times the general Oaxhan is. And Hestophes is a better general than I. The High King? Maybe a hundred times better than Hestophes. Maybe a hundred thousand times better than the rest of us.”

The priest dropped into silence.

“Is there any more news from the west?” Denethon asked.

“None. The God-King’s soldiers march north against Xipototec. They will utterly destroy it. Every man, woman and child will pay for what they’ve done!”

“How many march?” Denethon asked.

“Sixty thousand.”

Denethon grunted. A half moon ago he’d have thought that more than enough. Today, nothing was certain. Nothing at all.

IV

During the battle Legios stood at Brigadier Markos’ left hand, a bare blade in his hand.

Earlier, the brigadier stood on the parapet, looking south for a very long time, as the sun slowly crawled above the horizon. Finally the general ordered the word passed: stand down, but be ready. Rest.

“They are not massing,” Brigadier Markos spoke. Since there was no one else around, Legios assumed the general was speaking to him, even if the brigadier’s eyes were fixed on the distance.

“There are men marching out there, just to our left front,” Legios said.

“True enough and odds are we’ll see them soon enough. But they are marching in column. They will not attack in a column. One, maybe two palm widths.”

Brigadier Markos turned to Legios. “I am going to sleep for a short while. I am only to be awoken when they form a line facing us, do you understand, Ensign?”

“Yes, sir.”

With that the brigadier walked a few steps away and sank down against a rock. In an instant, he was asleep.

Legios had been tired before, but now he felt unnaturally alert. He looked out over the ground in front of them. There were a few bushes, some of them large enough for more than a few men to hide behind, but no more. Bushes that might shield them from sight, but wouldn’t do much more than slow a bullet. There were more of the scrub oak trees that dominated the thickets to the east. It would take a skinny man to hide behind one of them.

The Mexicotál moved again, this time the column turning sideways. At first, Legios was tempted to wake the brigadier, but decided against it. He was right, because a few heartbeats later they turned north again, coming towards them in column, but then they stopped. His eye measured the distance with a lot more experience than he’d had a few moons before. Perhaps four miles, not much more.

Even at the distance he was at, Legios could see an officer, probably their commander, standing in front of all of them, speaking. Encouraging the troops! Legios smiled at that. Something they’d taught him in the short school he’d had!

The officer waved something bright and shiny over his head, and Legios was pretty sure that the men were cheering, although it was too far away to hear any of it. Then the men turned, and once again began to march, still in a column. Still, Legios was pretty sure they wouldn’t march far.

He took two quick steps and gently put his hand on the brigadier’s shoulder. “Sir, they are moving forward.”

The brigadier opened his eyes, and for an instant he stared at Legios without comprehension. Then he laughed. “A much longer nap than I expected!” He held his hand out and Legios helped him up.

A runner came up a moment later as Brigadier Markos contemplated the Mexicotál soldiers advancing on their position. “Sir, Captain Hotha’s compliments. The Mexicotál are moving.”

Brigadier Markos waved at the view in front of them. “Yes, so I see.”

The messenger saluted and ran back towards his officer.

“Ensign.”

Legios looked at his superior.

“Morale, Ensign, is everything. It is like having extra companies to hand. Finding your commander awake and aware...that is morale, Ensign. Thank you.”

“You told me to wake you, sir.”

The brigadier nodded. “Come.”

What happened after that was something Legios would be able to describe, but not understand. Men would come for orders, and the brigadier would give them. Brigadier Markos would wave a courier forward, and someone not so very different than Legios would run to fulfill the request.

One in particular stood out. A courier saluted and Markos spoke calmly. “Inform Captain-General Hestophes that the Sixth Mounted Rifles will receive an attack within two finger widths from a half division of Mexicotál infantry.”

Legios hitched himself up, checking everything. Brigadier Markos spoke to him. “You have a pistol?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The blade and the pistol suffice. In truth, unless I have made a fatal error, you won’t need them. Not that you or I will be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Legios responded.

Two miles away, five long lines of Mexicotál soldiers had formed up–now they started forward.

The brigadier summoned another messenger. “Tell Colonel Baron Franos that Mexicotál artillery are advancing. Tell him that I expect them to form a battery line at a range of a mile. Tell him to engage on his own discretion.”

Out on the plain in front of them, Legios could see the long line of artillery pieces and caissons, moving at a trot, the guns bouncing over the irregular terrain as they moved towards the Hostigi position. The artillery wheeled and formed a line, just behind the last line of the advancing Mexicotál infantry.

Brigadier Markos grunted. “Cross your fingers. Out there is a Mexicotál artillery officer who knows his business. That was a competently done maneuver. Let us hope he dies in our first salvo.”

Legios set his jaw. Those men were trying to kill him. They hadn’t come this way to drink and eat red meat and party. They had come to kill him. If they weren’t stopped, soon they would be in Xiphlon where his father and mother were. His older brothers and sisters.

It wasn’t just stories that people told about what the Mexicotál did to captives. If you were very lucky, they made you a slave. Otherwise you died, your heart cut out on top of one of their pyramids. And even if you were enslaved, the way the Mexicotál worked was that few died except on the pyramid. You did not grow old in the service of the God-King.

As soon as the Mexicotál artillery started to wheel and face the hill, the Hostigi artillery boomed. Legios could see the shot slamming up and down the Mexicotál line. Most missed, some long, some short. But a few hit. The next salvo, a lot more balls went home.

In front of him, the Mexicotál infantry started to trot forward.

Brigadier Markos turned to the senior sergeant of the division. “Marksmen may open fire.”

Three long pips, followed by a short one. All along the Hostigi lines, the very best sharpshooters began to fire.

Another slam from the artillery batteries. With somewhat dulled recognition, Legios realized that some of those guns had been hauled along the road he’d helped build, even if his help hadn’t amounted to much.

He was thinking that, when the brigadier tugged at his arm. “Down!”

He crouched, as did everyone else on the command staff. There were a few bullets, but not many. Even as he thought that, one of his fellows, someone he’d known from Xiphlon, who had been running towards the brigadier, message in his hand, twisted and fell. Legios had to look away; Turrin’s head was a ruin.

A sergeant come up and took the message out of the dead man’s hand and tossed it to someone else, then leaned closer to Turrin. A heartbeat later he was up, attending to something else.

Just like that, Legios thought, Turrin was dead. He might have died if the brigadier hadn’t warned him.

Below, rifle fire crashed and roared. Rags of fireseed smoke blew away on the wind; again and again the rifles of the Sixth Mounted Rifles fired.

The Mexicotál lines withered and then wavered. A final salvo of case shot and the survivors stopped moving forward and began to cautiously withdraw. The Hostigi rifles never slowed, slaughtering those who hesitated. It happened almost at once: the survivors dropped their weapons, turned and ran as fast as they could.

Brigadier Markos’s voice was clear, riding over the battlefield. “As long as you can score, mark them down! Kill them!”

Legios watched as still more of the Mexicotál soldiers, fleeing as fast as they could run, would stumble and fall. A few dozen, he thought. That’s all that lived.

He closed his eyes. A terrible, terrible thing!

He gripped his sword more firmly, grimly ready to do whatever he must.

V

Tanda Havra ran well, stopping in front of Tuck. “We hamstrung their guns. They abandoned them, as they retreated southwards!”

Tuck nodded, then waved towards the west. Tanda looked out across the road, then to the gap that the Hostigi artillery had held. There were a lot of dead soldiers out there!

“The recruits did beyond well,” Tuck told her. “However, Lady Judy’s people found a dispatch ordering the God-King’s soldiers to halt at the end of their march today, so that the follow-on column could catch up. About forty thousand men under a Captain-General Thanos.”

Tanda shrugged. “How far away are they?”

“They’ll be here either very late tomorrow or early the day after.”

“What are you planning on doing?” She expected him to say they would withdraw.

Below them, on the hillside, someone had been yelling. Tanda turned and saw one of the Mexicotál soldiers waving his rifle over his head, screaming something. When he stopped, every other Mexicotál soldier was on his feet, screaming as well.

“I had this clever idea,” Tuck told her, when the volume of sound declined. “I rested them where they could see what they’d done. I thought it would encourage them.” Tuck choked–it wasn’t really a laugh.

“Now, about every finger width or so, someone pops up to his feet, screams about how killing the God-King’s soldiers is their destiny. Then they all cheer for a while, then resume resting. A little later, it happens again. I do believe they are ready to fight another battle.”

“Forty thousand?” Tanda was appalled. “And a good many of the God-King’s soldiers retreated from here. Maybe not half, but as many as we are.”

“That and we used up nearly half of the mortar ammunition,” Tuck added.

Tanda didn’t think that was good. She sensed something, just on the edge of her awareness. She turned and saw Pinyon standing a few feet away, looking out over the battlefield.

Tuck saw her gaze and followed it. “Pinyon,” Tuck said. His neutral tone spoke huge volumes.

Pinyon dropped to his knees, leaned close and kissed Tuck’s boots.

“This is good, right?” Tuck asked Tanda.

Tanda shook her head. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

Pinyon stood up. “Lord Tuck, the Lost Ruthani you returned to me–we are shamed. Shamed!”

Tuck shrugged. “They were stupid–not cowards or anything shameful.”

“You told them to follow your commands; I told them to follow your commands. They did not.”

Pinyon handed Tuck a sheet of paper. Tanda craned to read it, but couldn’t get a good look.

Tuck lifted his eyes and met Pinyon’s. “This,” Tuck said, “is worth however many who couldn’t do what they were told.”

Pinyon stood stiffly. “I talked to the other elders. Most thought we would please Count Errock and you best by killing those who disobeyed. A few wanted to simply cast them out.” Pinyon’s expression was winter cold. “They raid now, most days, the God-King’s road.”

Tuck bobbed his head. “If I want a man dead, I kill him myself.”

Pinyon chuckled. “This is no surprise! And if I want a man dead, he too dies. Stupidity isn’t tolerable, but not worth killing men over.”

Pinyon waved at the battlefield. “And this? What was this?”

“That is what happens when I don’t like you,” Tuck said in measured terms. “Stick around. Around dawn we’ll meet more of them. I don’t like them, either.”

Tuck called to his officers. “Tell them to get up, it’s time to start marching again. South.”

In moments, seven thousand Mexicotál were on their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs, waving their rifles over their heads. It took a while to get them on the march again, and they filed down off the ridge’s eastern flank and then turned south.

Tanda stood with Pinyon watching them go. “How, Tanda Havra, can the Ruthani regain our honor in the eyes of the High King? Lord Tuck?”

She turned to face him. “You lost no honor. Some men were sent home because they did not want to follow the High King’s Field Regulations. One Hostigi soldier was shot at Xipototec for attacking a woman, and another was killed for pulling a knife on a Ruthani who squirted him with water.

“When we fought, and yes, Ruthani fought here today, it was we alone who hamstrung the God-King’s artillery. Their big guns.” Tanda’s grin was wolfish. “We killed their horses.”

Pinyon reached out touched Tanda’s lion necklace with a finger. “And this?”

Lion appeared and laughed. “She earned them as I have. She took them from their owner. That night the two of us ran off the horses of a company of soldiers! It was good, brother!”

“Our people still fight? Lord Tuck still trusts us?”

Lion spoke before Tanda could think of the right way to say it. “Lord Tuck trusts those who do what they are told. He doesn’t tell you how to do what he wishes, he expects you to do that for yourself. His officers are very capable. He has molded all to be like the fingers on his fist. We all move at his command–even the people of Xipototec. You saw them just now. They are eager to fight again.”

Pinyon dropped his voice. “A defeat...”

“Lord Tuck is a careful man and his enemies are not. He listens to his officers when they hold war councils. He has reasons for what he does. We let two hundred of the God-King’s men go after we took Xipototec. All that survived, out of a garrison of nearly three thousand. We could have killed them easily, safely. Instead, Lord Tuck commanded us to let them go. I heard his words, brother! If we killed them all, the God-King’s men would fear us!”

“That would be a good thing!”

Lion shook his head. “No, better for them to think we were weak and unable to fight them. As a result, their men literally walked into the throat of the Hostigi guns waiting for them in ambush. Arrogant men, men who didn’t need to see what waited in front of them.

“At dawn, I hear, we will attack the survivors of this army. This time, we will kill them all! Now they need to fear us, to make them take their time before they come to us, so that we may better prepare! Lord Tuck is a clever man, brother! Very clever!”

They turned and started running, including the two dozen Ruthani who’d come with Pinyon. Many miles later Tanda pulled up with the others at a cluster of fires, where Lord Tuck had ordered the camp made.

Over the next two palm widths, more and more of Tuck’s army arrived, only two hundred men with the field guns who had moved south to provide a security screen for the artillery were elsewhere.

“Three things,” Tuck told his officers when they assembled. “First, the bit of work we have to do this morning at dawn. Then a discussion of how we will deal with the larger force coming up from the southwest. The dead vanguard commander had a dispatch saying that there are four divisions, roughly forty thousand men, in the second party. Last, some news from home.

“The Ruthani report that the remnants of the God-King’s first force are about six miles away. A short while ago, the God-King’s soldiers found that our field guns had taken up position on the other side of the ravine they hide behind. Only a few hundred of them came forward to fight and they were knocked back easily.

“What we will do is give the men about three palm widths rest here, then we’ll move again, about two palm widths before dawn. Stress to everyone how important it will be to keep quiet! We don’t want the God-King’s men to lose any sleep!”

There were laughs and the mood lightened.

“We will form up in a line. Instead of being in front of us, our enemies will be here.” Tuck pointed at a forty-five degree angle.

“Each company will fire at that angle. It will be important for you officers and sergeants to make sure that your men shoot in the right direction. We will fire four volleys before we start to advance. We will keep advancing and firing until there are no more of the God-King’s soldiers living on the battlefield.”

There were a few questions, fewer than Tanda expected.

“After the battle, we will rest for a few palm widths, then we’ll police the battlefield. Bodies go into the wash, weapons and supplies into our wagons. By mid-afternoon we’ll be headed back across the wash. We’ll leave a little surprise for the next bunch of the God-King’s soldiers, courtesy of the God-King’s artillery. We have two wagonloads of the God-King’s fireseed saved up to give them. We’ll park it near where they’ll have to pass to come at us. When they come we will blow it up in their faces.

“Once we are safely across the wash, we’ll get an attack, but it won’t be a very big one. We’ll beat them back and by then it should be dark.

“As soon as we can, we’ll be sending the wounded and supplies north. The field guns will go to the positions they had this morning. We’ll have another officer’s call before we fight their main body tomorrow afternoon. We’ll want to capture as many horses as we can, so we can grab those guns the God-King left us this morning.”

Tuck paused. “Last, Pinyon, one of the elders of the Ruthani, arrived shortly after the battle this morning, with dispatches from Count Errock.”

He looked around the assembled officers, his face grave. “I want you to take something back to your men when you return to your units. We faced nearly three times our numbers today and defeated them easily. Tomorrow morning we will face almost as many of them as there are of us, and I’m confident that we will do just as well.

“However, it never hurts to have good news before you go into battle. Count Errock reports that the King of Zarthan was murdered, poisoned by False Styphon’s priests. Styphon was declared anathema and now no priests of Styphon survive in the Zarthani lands. The God-King will shortly do the same, I’m sure, in his lands.

“Oh, one other thing. The siege of Outpost is broken, the Zarthani are retreating west, and the God-King’s soldiers are retreating north of us. Count Errock expects them to try to escape by sea because they are afraid of us.”

It was stated so quietly, with such understatement, that Tanda was, like the rest, left wondering if she’d heard correctly.

Tuck’s voice suddenly went loud. “Three cheers for the High King!”

There were loud cheers, then Tuck added, “And now three cheers for Count Errock and the gallant defenders of Outpost!”

The cheers were much louder.

“Last, when you return to your troops, tell them to give three cheers for themselves! They’ve done well today, they will do well tomorrow and in all of our days to come!”


	26. Battles and Aftermath

I

Denethon stared at the captain-general’s map spread out on the trestle table in the headquarters tent and kept his face stonily blank. Five thousand dead men had bought him a place at this table, and it would do them and those still living no good at all if he lost his temper listening to the captain-general speak.

“I have decided to reinforce the initial attack against the hill in the middle. Now it will be fifteen thousand men. Our scouts say there are perhaps two thousand Hostigi in place there. Moreover, their artillery is placed to range the road. We will be attacking from the west flank. They will have to move their guns in order to fire them.”

The captain-general drew a broad stroke on the map aimed at the hill on the west. “A hundred thousand men, under the command of General Zuma, will attack the western flank from the west. Overnight we will move the artillery up to support them. All of the artillery.

“Then, General Acalan will attack with eighty thousand, here.” Again a slash from the west, this time against the middle hill.

He looked around, obviously proud of his plan. “The remainder of the army will be aligned along the road. They will move at a quick trot, once the Hostigi have been dislodged. Tomorrow morning will see the end of Hestophes!”

“Captain-General,” Denethon said, trying to keep his voice sounding as reasonable as possible. “Is there any word about the High King?”

“No.” The captain-general pointed at the map. “Our scouts report these thickets and brambles to be impenetrable to organized military units.”

Denethon spoke carefully, choosing each word deliberately. “Except these thickets and brambles end here. They are not a military obstacle in our rear.”

“What are you saying, General?” Oaxhan’s temper was obviously rising.

“I’m saying I wish we knew where the High King was,” Denethon told him. “And what of the hill to the northwest? What have the scouts told you about what faces the army on that hill to the west?”

“The Hostigi have repeatedly ambushed the scouts. It doesn’t matter. Even if Hestophes and his entire army are there, we will crush them!”

Denethon tried to be patient. “And if the High King joins Hestophes?”

“We would know of that.”

“And I submit that by your admission, you do not know that. You are stumbling around blind on the battlefield of our enemy’s making.”

“And you have a better plan?”

“Up the road,” Denethon repeated his earlier plan. “The whole army, attacking division after division, until the Hostigi break. If Hestophes is off to the west, you would push him further west and interpose yourself between him and the High King and the town. When you understand better what you face, you can turn on the weaker force and crush it, or, worst case, hold these hills for a moon until reinforcements arrive. Then fight a huge battle that would decide the fate of our kings. You would have good ground, Captain-General.”

“My dispositions are already in motion. They will not change.”

“Then, tomorrow, at first light, attack with a division against each of the two western hills, with another division following each, as if a reserve. Force the Hostigi to commit. You need to find out what is to your front before you start the main battle.”

“You are a coward, Denethon! A coward!”

“Captain-General Oaxhan, the only way you can lose this battle is to attack with a portion of your forces into a trap Hestophes or the High King has set for you. You are attacking with a portion of your forces into terrain that you’ve not scouted and you have no idea where your enemy’s forces are located.”

“Coward! We outnumber them five to one!”

“You think you outnumber the Hostigi five to one. And don’t forget General Xorca this morning. He also outnumbered them five to one. You got back what? Thirty men? The senior was a badly wounded sergeant, carried to safety by his brothers and most of whom were also wounded.” And, Denethon had also heard, those men had been cheered by the Hostigi for their bravery and devotion to their comrade.

“General Oaxhan,” Gortan spoke, his words like a hammer hitting an anvil. There were no sounds, just pinched faces and cold eyes looking at the map table, all aware that the captain-general had just been taken down a step. “If the battle goes as you plan tomorrow the God-King will sing your praises. If it goes as General Denethon says, I will cut your living heart out and shove it up your ass.”

There were no sounds in the tent, not even rustles or faint stirs of movement. Denethon really wished the priest had kept his mouth shut; it wasn’t as if Oaxhan’s fate would be a surprise. The God-King never liked it when his generals lost big-time.

“I am not a coward. These are the God-King’s finest soldiers, armed with his finest weapons! We will prevail!” Oaxhan said stoutly.

“It’s not your courage that will be on trial tomorrow. It will be your judgment,” the priest retorted. Then the priest spun on his heel and left.

Denethon took council of what would be the wisest choice just then. Stiffly, he formally bowed. “General Oaxhan.” Then he too, turned and left.

He could hear the angry murmurs behind him, but they were muted.

Denethon beckoned and his lieutenant saluted. “Lord Denethon.”

“Tell off two men. See that they have their rifles and three pistols, each. Put one up on my horse, the other up on yours. The man on my horse goes to the fords, thirty miles back. Have him stop a mile or two north, in good cover. Have the other stop halfway. If either of them hears any shooting, I want to know about it as soon as possible.”

“Shooting, General?”

“Yes. Our Mexicotál friends have lost track of the High King and a hundred thousand or so of his soldiers. I know where I would want them, if I were in the High King’s boots! We’ve also lost track of Hestophes and all but about three or four thousand of his men. Tell everyone to be packed and ready to move, come first light. Get those men moving now.”

The lieutenant looked stricken. “Great Galzar! How do you lose track of two armies?”

“By thinking you are the God-King’s gift to fighting men! By thinking your enemies are even more stupid than you are. It doesn’t matter. Do it!”

It was a long night. Messengers came and went with news of the progress of the fighting units as they moved up to their positions for the attack. Oaxhan was jubilant. “Everyone will be in position! We will attack at first light!”

Denethon scoffed. “That would be the men attacking from southwest to northeast? Facing into the rising sun? A wonderful plan, Oaxhan!”

Oaxhan exploded, lashing out a fist at Denethon. Denethon simply moved out of the way, while an aide grabbed Oaxhan’s arm before he could strike again. “Later today, Denethon, before the sun sets, you will be dead!”

Denethon laughed and took a step forward and held out his hand. Oaxhan recoiled and Denethon laughed harder. “What, you don’t want to agree to the wager? That only one of us will live by this evening? Who’s the coward, Oaxhan?”

Oaxhan spit at him and again Denethon bobbed his head out of the way.

“So, Oaxhan, any word from the scouts?”

“There are Hostigi on the hills! We will kill them all!”

Denethon sensed a presence next to him and turned to see the God-King’s high priest.

“Any idea how many Hostigi are on those hills, Captain-General?” Denethon asked, satisfied with being sarcastically polite.

Oaxhan turned and started issuing orders again, ignoring Denethon.

“How is it, General,” the priest asked Denethon, “that you know so much and Oaxhan knows so little?”

Denethon smiled. “That’s just it. I don’t actually know anything, and that gives me concern. I know what I would do in Hestophes’ place. I know what Hestophes must do, in order to win. You plan to defeat the other general’s plans. But General Oaxhan plans on fighting his battle without regard to what anyone else is planning.”

In the distance, cannon boomed. Everyone craned to look. Even two miles away, the gaps in the God-King’s lines were apparent. Denethon studied the fireseed smoke from the cannon salvo.

“That looks more like fifty guns, not the dozen Oaxhan said,” Denethon said, ignoring Oaxhan, just steps away. “Case shot. If the commander of that force doesn’t stop and withdraw now, they’ll all die going up that hill, just like yesterday.”

Denethon peered through the growing light. “What’s that north of the guns, on the western side of the center hill?”

Everyone looked. After a heartbeat, Oaxhan slapped his fist into his palm. “Breastworks! Now we know where Hestophes is! The next attack will turn his flank, the third attack will reduce him to ruin!”

Denethon nodded. Well, it sure looked like a log breastwork. Obviously it was something the Hostigi had done overnight.

“Signal the second attack!” Oaxhan commanded, now eager for battle.

Denethon wasn’t on that western hill, but even if Hestophes was there, seeing a hundred thousand men appear suddenly and start advancing on you was bound to have an impact. Perhaps he was wrong, after all.

Bright sparks appearing in the early morning, among the advancing soldiers. From the distance they could hear cracking explosions. Soldiers tumbled down in swathes. Great Galzar! The Hostigi had explosive cannon shot! Something hundreds of Zarthani had died trying to perfect. Died in vain.

“Tell the artillery to fire on those guns!” Oaxhan commanded.

It was then, even more so than from those pinpricks, that Denethon felt true fear. Fire on the guns? What guns? There was no fireseed smoke! There were no great belches of flame and smoke!

More explosions rippled through the advancing soldiers.  Denethon crushed his first fears. They were pinpricks! Just pinpricks! Five, maybe ten men would fall at a time. Many times, one or two would pick themselves up and continue to advance. A hundred thousand men weren’t going to be swayed by dozens of pinpricks!

Oaxhan was furious. “Why aren’t the guns firing?”

A trembling officer spoke. “Captain-General! General Xyl says his artillery isn’t in position! The ground was too uneven. He’s withdrawn to the main camp!”

Another officer choked out his message. “Captain-General! There’s no fireseed smoke from the Hostigi guns!”

Oaxhan looked and saw too. Oaxhan was like any other drowning man, he grasped at straws. “The Hostigi are clever devils! They must have their guns over the top of the ridge, firing to just clear the ridge! Tell them to press the attack! Tell the third attack to advance!”

The Hostigi rifle fire was now visible as even tinier pinpricks of light on the distant hill. Now there was quite a bit of fireseed smoke.

The sudden tongues of flame from those clouds announced larger guns. Again, the God-King’s men died in windrows as case shot slaughtered them.

“Press the attack!” Oaxhan screamed. “They must press the attack! There are only ten thousand Hostigi on that hill!”

Denethon looked and had to agree. About that many, anyway, from the number of rifle shots he was seeing and hearing.

More and more explosions dotted the advancing lines of the God-King’s infantry, more salvoes of case shot reached out for them. At least, Denethon thought absently, the artillery had targets at last. Too bad the guns were back in camp. Denethon sniffed. It wouldn’t have mattered. It was like the morning before. Hestophes’ artillery was firing from prepared revetments, with only the muzzles showing. 

They would have been very hard to hurt!

He turned his attention back to the first attack, and sucked wind. A few men staggered back, obviously as shattered as the attack the day before had been, even if three times as many men had made the attack. The priest asked a question and Denethon didn’t trust his voice, he just pointed.

Denethon did the math. If Hestophes had ten thousand on his right, a thousand on the left, that left the rest in the middle. Denethon swallowed. He’d been wrong after all. Hestophes knew the weaker force would come up the middle. And he had prepared. Thirty-five thousand against eighty thousand! It would be...

His thoughts stopped when the hill in the center vanished in flame and towering clouds of fireseed smoke. Denethon staggered and he fell to one knee, even if he was miles away from the cataclysm. Those hadn’t been breastworks! That was half the guns of Hostigos! They must have been lined up wheel to wheel! Hundreds and hundreds of them!

His mind focused on the numbers. Two hundred balls in one of the laced leather cases that were rammed home on top of the High King’s finest fireseed. Case shot that flew almost half a mile further after the case fell away, then killing out to nearly a mile. Numbers didn’t matter; the eighty thousand soldiers in the attack vanished like a snowflake in the sun of a hot summer day. They melted and vanished.

Perhaps ninety thousand of the God-King’s soldiers in the main attack lifted their heads and looked at what had happened to their brothers. And in that instant, had to understand they too were in range of those guns.

The hillside vanished in flame again. Five hundred guns, Denethon thought. We knew Alkides was here–why didn’t we understand? Even Denethon hadn’t understood. They must have dragged every other cannon in the High King’s lands here for this! He coughed and spat, nearly ill to his stomach.

The sixty thousand survivors of that volley were like some giant flock of birds. One instant they had been moving north to attack the western hill, the next they were moving south. Only now in a panic-stricken run, undoubtedly shedding equipment as they ran.

The command group was as stricken as Denethon. There was a sudden scream, and everyone craned to look. The priest, Gortan, held Oaxhan’s still beating heart over his head. Then the priest threw it into a latrine pit.

“General Denethon, you command here!”

Another cannon volley crashed over the shattered land. Another ten thousand men died. Two hundred balls, five hundred guns. A hundred thousand balls flew each time those guns fired into the packed mass of the attack formation. Only the greater distance saved many of them.

Denethon broke the grip of his fears. “Send word to the reserves along the road. They are to march at once. Half will go a mile south of the main camp, face south and dig in and prepare for battle. Tell the other half to stop a mile north of the camp, face north and prepare for battle. Those to the north will stop all stragglers, form them up and march them in order to the main camp.”

Someone asked, “Should we call off the attack?”

Another man, a brigadier from Oaxhan’s coterie, snorted. “We should kill all those who run!”

There was a sudden grunt, and Gortan jerked his obsidian knife upwards, spilling the man’s entrails on the ground.

“General Denethon, you will do what you can to save the God-King’s soldiers!” the priest commanded.

Denethon looked at the man who’d asked about calling off the attack. He was suddenly pale, obviously terrified and expecting death.

Denethon was gentle. “I think the soldiers already know that the attack has failed. Order up a truce party, try to signal the Hostigi we want a ceasefire, to take care of our wounded.”

Another cannon salvo fired. The officer looked stricken. “Why would they agree?”

“Not a chance in hell they will, but even the offer will take them a few heartbeats to think over and decide. Giving more men a chance to get out of range. Do it! Now!”

Denethon turned to another officer. “Take charge of the stragglers fleeing from the battle. They are to be formed up in groups of a hundred, put under a steady NCO and marched back to camp. Most will not have weapons. We have some spares, arm the steadiest.”

The man met Denethon’s eyes. “They aren’t to be punished?”

“For surviving a slaughter? I know you worship the God-King, but I worship Galzar! Galzar doesn’t hold it against a man for trying to live, after he’s been defeated!”

“I speak for the God-King,” Gortan said loudly. “These men were ill-led. The blame is not theirs! They are not to be punished! Those who made the mistakes have paid for them! Tell them that!”

One of Denethon’s men came pounding up. “General! General! The High King has taken the fords! He is taking up position on this side of the Tulum River, preparing to oppose us!”

Denethon could see the priest’s throat work. “Swear to me, Denethon, swear to me that you are not the High King’s man! Look me in the eye and tell me!”

“I am not the High King’s man, I am the King of Zarthan’s man.”

“Yet, you knew where the High King was!” someone said.

Denethon laughed. “I knew where I’d want to be if I was the High King!”

“What now?” Gortan asked.

“Now we take what we can get. We get as many men together tonight as we can. We’ll send a couple of thousand south to skirmish against the High King’s advance, we’ll send a couple of thousand north to skirmish against Hestophes. Those are all dead men, do you understand? All of them!”

“And the rest of us?”

“Like I said, we take what we can get. The deaths of the skirmishers will give the rest of us leave to go west. We will go west, trending towards the south. The High King won’t have as far to go to cut us off, but the land inland of him is much drier than where we will be going. Don’t forget the rest of your army is coming north. The High King won’t get far from water and won’t want to let the main force cut him off. Odds are he’ll let us go. We’ll finally turn south when it’s safe and race for safety.”

“How many will live?”

Denethon held his eye. “Perhaps, if we’re lucky, a hundred thousand. Likely less. No guns, no horses, just what we can carry on our backs.”

“No artillery and horses?” one of the Mexicotál officers asked.

“Nope. The guns are heavy and will slow us down. We’ll spike any that remain before we break camp tomorrow morning. We’ll eat the horses on the march and even with that, we’re going to be hungry before we’re safe. Let’s get busy.”

II

It had been a trying night for Tanda. The soldiers of Hostigos tried to be quiet as they moved into positions, and the soldiers of Xipototec tried to be quiet. The Ruthani moved among them, helping them be quiet. It was a miracle that they went unheard.

There was just the faintest tinge of light to the east when the blow was finally struck. Eight thousand men waited, but only two hundred of the Hostigi fired at first. They were close enough to see the fires of their enemy, to see a few men moving around. Their rifles flayed those standing, a single volley that, while ragged, was very effective.

Here and there isolated rifles fired from their own formation and Tanda smiled to herself as she imagined what the sergeants were saying to the men who had fired early.

Almost none of the Hostigi understood any words of the Mexicotál tongue, and none of the Mexicotál understood more than a few words of Zarthani. But a tongue-lashing by a sergeant seemed to be in a universally understood language.

The camp in front of her erupted as Tuck had expected. Men jumped up, grabbed their rifles and...

The main volley fired, nearly eight thousand rifle shots at once, fired with rifles held waist high, firing as level as possible.

Tuck’s command was easily audible up and down the entire line in the sudden silence that followed the volley. “Reload! Fix bayonets!”

Eight thousand men reloaded and then spent a few heartbeats attaching socket bayonets to their rifles. There was a scattering of shots in reply and Tanda sank to a crouch.

Then the first Hostigi had reloaded and started aimed fire into the God-King’s camp. She looked up and down the line. It was as Tuck had commanded. They’d reloaded standing, now the Mexicotál sank down. The “odds” were kneeling, the “evens” prone on the ground.

More and more bullets came from the God-King’s soldiers, but almost all were high.

A volley crashed out from the soldiers of Xipototec, then another, another and another. Then with a loud shout the men kneeling where up and charging forward with their bayonets. Five heartbeats later, the men who’d been prone were on their feet and they too were given the order to charge.

The Hostigi stopped shooting, most of them, because there were no targets. A finger width was all it took.

Tanda shook her head. It was clear that when you fought Tuck, you needed every advantage, but he didn’t give his enemies any. What he did was hit so hard, so fast, that his enemies were shocked for a few moments into impotence and then he hit them again as hard as he could. She looked over at him, forty yards away, giving a steady stream of orders.

Then she turned to look over to where the Mexicotál had fired from. Perhaps twenty men were down, some of them already being tended to by the priests of Galzar Wolf’s Head.

Lion and Pinyon dipped down beside her. “A fine day, Tanda Havra!” Pinyon told her. “A very fine day!”

His eyes studied the windrows of the dead, the Mexicotál who were even now coming down from their battle lust and looking around them at the carnage they’d wrought.

Yes, it was true. They’d fought the God-King’s soldiers, badly outnumbered. And it wasn’t they who had died in great bloody piles of murdered innocents, it was the soldiers of the God-King.

In the distance a distinctly female voice raised the shout that buoyed their allies. “Never again! Never again!” The cheering rose and rose again from the Mexicotál soldiers.

Tanda turned to Lion. “Father, the God-King’s soldiers to the southeast?”

“Eight hands of blocks.”

“Forty thousand men,” Tanda said.

“Twenty hands of wagons,” Lion added. “No artillery, perhaps two hundred cavalry.”

Tanda laughed and the man who adopted her smiled. “What, daughter?”

“Men always claim women change their minds.”

“Truth!” Lion and Pinyon chorused.

“Lord Tuck has asked us to try to spare horses today. He would, he says, like to put as many men on horses as he can...including the Mexicotál.”

Pinyon choked. “Mexicotál on horses? It’s death for one of them to be seen sitting on a horse.”

“Better,” Lion added, “they learn to run like Ruthani!”

“It takes a lifetime to learn to run like Ruthani,” Tanda reminded him. She thought about Lady Judy who, if nothing else, had come close. But they treated her differently and she didn’t carry a pack nearly as heavy as the common soldiers. “Better, Lord Tuck says, to have tired horses at the end of a day than tired soldiers.”

“How far away are the God-King’s soldiers?” Tanda asked.

“Twelve miles, now. They might try to push some forward faster, but I think, four palm widths.”

“We must tell Lord Tuck.”

After that it was hard work. Men stacked rifles and heaved dead soldiers of the God-King off a small promontory, making a terrible tangled pile of dead and broken men. Two wagons of fireseed were pulled up close to where the road dipped down into the wash, and then a fuse was carefully laid and hidden at a point two hundred yards away, below the edge of the bank.

By then men were loading captured equipment into captured wagons and more men and wagons of Lord Tuck’s came across the wash to help load.

Tuck spoke briefly to the officers. “I want the wounded moving now; they will keep moving all the way to Xipototec. The same with the wagons of captured rifles and ammunition. All of that goes to Xipototec. Gather as much of the artillery train as you can and get it set in the gap along with our guns.” He pointed to Gamelin. “You, Gamelin, will command.”

Gamelin paled. “I would rather stay here and fight.”

Tuck grinned. “Well, if I have anything to say about it, there won’t be much more fighting today. All you have to do is get things moving north. Put some good sergeants to command. Lady Judy and her people will be with you as well.”

That didn’t settle Gamelin down at all. His eyes were cold, staring at Tuck.

Tuck saw his expression and was exasperated; one of the few shows of emotion Tanda had seen in public from Tuck. “Gamelin, get them moving. It’s important. Once they are moving, you will join the guns at the ambush site. Lady Judy’s people will scout for you, in case the God-King’s soldiers decide to move west, instead of east like I expect.

“What’s going to happen here will be essentially skirmishing. Their boss is going to see our tracks and understand what we did. That we hooked around to the east, taking their brother soldiers by surprise. He will chortle to himself and decide to give us a dose of our own medicine.

“Vertax says that if they agree to a truce, they will keep it. He’s sure enough of that to offer his daughter to translate for us. I’m also going to have Hestius with me and Tanda.”

Tuck grinned at the assembled officers. “Vertax says that the God-King is hoping that if he obeys the accepted rules of war in the Great Kingdoms and Zarthan, that perhaps they can pry some of the High King’s allies loose.”

There were nasty laughs from the Hostigi officers.

“In any case, he says that if they agree to talk, they will keep the truce.”

“And if you are wrong?” Captain Andromoth asked. “We will be bereft of your leadership. And Tanda Havra’s.”

“I don’t think it will happen. Tanda Havra says there are Ruthani who can lead her people as well as she can. And I would think by now you’ve learned a thing or two yourself.”

Andromoth bowed his head. Yes, indeed he had.

“So, we will talk with them. The supplies and wounded will be moving north, Gamelin will have time to deal with policing the first battlefield, something we didn’t have time for yesterday. Twenty thousand more rifles, tons of fireseed...more than we used today, but who knows what the future will bring? More importantly, thousands of rifles and tons of fireseed that the God-King won’t be able to use against us.”

“I think this General Thanos will go east, around the mountains, following our footsteps from last night. They will meet the field guns, waiting in ambush sometime tomorrow. More importantly, we’ll have the mortars on the slopes of this ridge, and all night long we will drop shells on them. Tomorrow, they are going to be a little tired.”

There were chuckles at that.

“We ambush them at the gap. The cannon have enough case shot for two salvoes. Then they pack up and withdraw, while the eight hundred or so Hostigi infantry we’ve left there, cover their retreat along the road, north. Then the covering infantry will also break off and head north. Somewhere in there, the God-King's soldiers are going to find that first batch of dead soldiers from yesterday. They are going to have already taken some casualties.

“Their boss is going to know that he either kills us, or dies himself. He’s going to make up his mind quickly, and he’s going to come on fast.”

Tuck sketched the map on the ground. “Here, about two miles north of the gaps, there is a small fold of ground, west of the road. You can see behind it when you’re coming south, but not when you’re going north. The soldiers of Xipototec will be waiting there. When the God-King’s soldiers come even, we will climb the hill and open fire.

“Each man fires once, and then we step back behind the hill, just like we did yesterday. They are good and steady now, and I think they’ll hold, even though we’re going to take more casualties.

“We will have them make a left turn, and then we’re going to start marching north. After a few steps, it will be at double time. I want you all to make sure that we keep it double time, I want those men to try to do like Lady Judy’s people do, run in step. I wish we had drums. The idea is to show we’re in control, not running away, even if that’s what we look like we’re doing.

“I’m not going to kid you. Doing this is going to be difficult. We’ll hit the God-King’s men hard and quick, and we’ll only be exposed for a few heartbeats, but they are going to be shooting back and people are going to get killed.

“Then we have to control the speed of the withdrawal. Not too fast, not too slow. We’ll have mounted Hostigos regulars along the route. They will fire from ambush against the pursuit, to discourage it. Then, they too withdraw...to another ambush point.”

Tuck went on to describe the rest of the plan, which should, Tanda agreed, give them at least two more chances to attack the much larger force opposing them, with favorable odds to inflict serious damage.

Tuck motioned to Tanda and Judy after the meeting started to break up. Tuck spoke first to Judy. “I want Zokala to come with Tanda and me on the truce party.”

Judy frowned, then nodded. “She speaks Zarthani and Mexicotál. Her father could do it...”

“Her father is a strategic asset I’d just as soon the God-King didn’t learn about. If someone recognized him as a former officer, it might even be enough to end the truce. No, Zokala and her face will be enough. As soon as the parley is over and we’re clear, I promise I’ll send her back.”

Judy grinned. “Yes, Lord Tuck!”

He stuck his tongue out at her and she smiled. Then Tuck turned to Tanda. “I’d like you and Lion with me as well.”

Lion seemed to spring up from nowhere. “You want me to face the commander of so many of my enemies? Not even a lion could keep me from that!”

“All that’s going to happen is talk,” Tuck told him. “We don’t want to start a fight...yet.”

“I will attend my daughter as a good father should!”

“Yeah, you might want to hold that thought for a heartbeat or two,” Tuck told him. “Come.”

They walked about a hundred yards to where the trail started down the hill. “Do you see where the trail turns out across the wash?”

“My eyes can still see that far,” Lion said with a laugh.

“We are going to be mounted. I want you and Tanda to hop off as we reach the bottom of the wash and go just past that rock outcrop there. That’s where the fuse ends, there’s a piece of cloth to show where it is. Hide and watch for the signal from the other side. Three times three flashes from a mirror. Then light the fuse.”

“And then?”

“And then run like the wind,” Tuck told him. “Run further west, along the wash. Then hide after the explosion, before they can think to look for you. When it gets dark, come to us across the wash.”

Tanda grinned. “Always happy to send more servants of the God-King to meet their gods.”

“You will be careful?” Tuck told her.

“As careful as you would be, Tuck.”

He very carefully reached out and took her hand. “Don’t do anything I’d do.”

She laughed and squeezed his fingers. “When I get back, I think I’ll be in the mood for something more than having you mash my fingers.”

“Well then...we’ll just have to bide our time until that happens.”

Lion spoke. “However, Lord Tuck, you have forgotten one small thing.”

“What is that?”

“I have ridden a horse a few times. I won’t fall off. Tanda, I think, won’t fall off. Zokala...”

Judy had asked Zokala to come and she arrived just as Lion said her name.

“What about me?”

“Lion wants to know if you can ride a horse,” Tuck told her. “Your father said you did, but Lion has concerns.”

“I have ridden often. He is more likely to fall off than me!”

Tuck spoke to Lion. “The Mexicotál slaves and serfs can’t ride. The daughter of a military officer can.”

“Ah!” Lion said. “No wonder you know so much more than most men, Lord Tuck! You ask questions! I had thought you were flattering me, that you’ve asked me so many!”

“Just trying to get along with my prospective father-in-law,” Tuck said with a straight face.

Lion nodded, his eyes bright with laughter. “Not long coming, I think, if Tanda wants you to squeeze something other than her hands later tonight.”

Tanda slugged him, but Lion didn’t seem to notice.

Later, Tanda watched the last of the wagons start down the cliff. To the south, the dust cloud of the advancing army was about three miles away.

Tuck gestured and Hestius rode forward, carrying a rifle with the stock over his head. He rode steadily south, while the few remaining soldiers watched. Riders rode out ahead of the God-King’s soldiers and they stopped about two miles out.

There was obviously a conference and the advance was stopped, while someone more senior was brought up to confer. Tuck kept watch with glasses. “Here comes their boss,” Tuck said.

Tanda could see a man with a lot of feathers. Some of the God-King’s generals were sporting armor these days instead of feathers. Considering how much protection the armor was, the feathers were probably a more comfortable choice.

Hestius came back, much quicker than when he’d ridden out.

“Lord Tuck, they say they will talk. They will advance half the distance between us and then their leader will come to speak with you. He said that he could not promise Oath to Galzar, but he promised on the honor of the God-King. Pretty much the same thing.”

“Okay, get going. Tell Captain Andromoth to make sure everyone is in position. Expect action in a palm width.”

Hestius saluted and rode more circumspectly down the steep pitch to the wash floor. The rest of the troops still on the south side of the wash followed along behind him.

“Let’s get up,” Tuck said, and the last four of them mounted horses. They started forward as well, but Tuck stopped them quickly.

Tuck started speaking, as they watched half a dozen officers, some in armor, some not, advance. “I think one of those is a priest,” Tuck said.

“The short fat one,” Zokala agreed. “Most priests are fat...they eat very well.”

“Remember, I plan on playing with their heads. Do not be surprised at anything I say or do. The first thing will be a quick lesson on alliances. Next will be a slightly longer lesson on what happens when I want the war over by winter. Then we will invite them to turn around and go home, then we’ll turn around and go north.”

The soldiers of the God-King stopped about ten yards away, and Tuck grinned. “Just sit still. We invited them, remember? They’re coming to us. They didn’t ride all this way to stop a few feet short.”

After a few heartbeats, the one with the most feathers made a gesture and pointed in front of him. Tuck made a gesture that was obscene in many places, but evidently not here. Zokala spoke softly. “What did that mean?”

Tuck laughed loud enough for the others to hear. “I think he can figure that out by himself.”

After a short wait, the God-King’s men advanced the last few feet.

The priest shouldered the others out of his way, drawing his obsidian knife and advancing on Zokala. The racket of Tuck’s pistol firing into the air caused a flurry of activity in both armies.

“Tell him stop or die,” Tuck said.

Zokala spoke swiftly, looking the priest in the eye, showing no fear.

“Tell their boss that he has broken the truce; that one of his people drew a knife first. That I do not negotiate with faithless men.”

Zokala spoke again, ignoring the priest this time. The general spoke to the priest who shook his head, brandishing the knife.

Tuck spoke again. “I have some news for you, General. But if you don’t want to hear it...that’s your choice. If the priest moves forward again, he’ll die. We’ll start a battle here that you’ll sorely regret...assuming you get lucky and survive.”

Zokala spoke, and the general replied.

“He says they will keep the truce as promised.”

The knife vanished, but the look of hate on the priest’s face was poisonous.

“The general asks what sort of news do you have for him.”

“Ask him if he knows what happened to those who defended Xipototec.”

The general spat a single word.

“Dead, he says.”

“Ask him if he knows where the general who commanded at Outpost is, and where the army he leads is?”

“Retreating,” came the one word reply.

Tuck gestured at Tanda and Lion. “This is Tanda Havra, soon to be my wife. Lion, her father. Ask him if he knows what they are.”

“Ruthani.”

“Ask him if he knows where you came from.”

“Xipototec.”

“Tell him that four moons ago I was a simple traveler from elsewhere, traveling with friends, that soldiers of Zarthan and the God-King attacked us. Now we stand with High King Kalvan and that I have come to command those that oppose him.”

The reply was a little longer. “He says that you don’t command much and won’t command long, that you are a seed caught between grindstones.”

Tuck grinned. “Ask him if he is deaf.”

Zokala frowned. “Deaf?”

“Ask him if he has ears to hear with, eyes to see with and a brain to think with.”

“He says of course. Even now you know doom awaits you, even if you have run off some pickets. What of it?”

“Tell him that he and his priest should follow me. I’ll be riding with my back to them, and those I leave behind are more precious to me than his entire army is to him.”

Tanda could see the God-King’s general was frowning, obviously fearing a trick. Still, Tuck turned his horse around, presenting his unpretentious back to them as he walked his horse towards the place on the cliff where the bodies had been thrown off.

Tuck took a little detour and stopped at the place the fallen of Xipototec were buried, a few dozen broken rifles, buried bayonet down in fresh turned dirt.

Then they continued on to the edge of the wash. Tuck paused there only a few heartbeats and once again turned his horse around and rode back to the truce party, his back once again to the God-King’s general.

When they were again in position, Tuck cocked one leg casually over the cantle of his saddle.

“There,” Tuck said, waving across the wash, “is the anvil you can smash your army against. Or, we can talk and come to an agreement. The High King keeps Xipototec. There is a gap about a day’s ride north of here. That is where we first fought this bunch. These were the soldiers who could run the fastest from that battle. We didn’t have time to bury any of these men, they lay faceless in the desert, the buzzards, crows and ravens feasting on them.”

Zokala translated the reply. “You expect him to believe you lost so few men?”

“It doesn’t matter if he believes it or not. He has eyes to see with. He saw the God-King’s soldiers, dead. He heard the battle this morning with his own ears. It was very short. Twelve thousand more of the God-King’s soldiers died yesterday. The army that did that stands across this gap. He can negotiate with me for a cease-fire, as his brother at Outpost did, and they can go on their way in peace, or he can try his luck against the anvil. There is a lot more room in that wash than needed to dump the bodies of all the men he’s brought with him.”

The general spoke something, his voice hard. Zokala turned to Tuck. “He says your wagons are all across now, and if you hurry, you might just get back to safety before he attacks.”

“Tell him that we took sixty thousand rifles and a hundred guns at Xipototec, along with two hundred tons of fireseed. Those wagons bear the last of twenty thousand more rifles and another ten tons of fireseed.” Tuck waved at the two wagons sitting by the edge of the wash. “We didn’t have enough horses, so we left you some corn. We captured tons of that, too.”

The priest spoke to Zokala who spoke back to him, laughing.

“What?” Tuck asked.

“He told me that all such as I would die by his knife. I told him that we all know that, and that the men of Xipototec–and some of the women–await him across the wash.”

“Just remember you’re not supposed to say anything,” Tuck mildly admonished the young . “If you’d have told him how many waited across the wash...”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Tell them this then: one last time I remind him. The High King is famous for preferring to come to terms rather than fighting. I could aspire to nothing greater than to be half the man the High King is. I too would prefer to settle this without further battle.”

“He says, you’d better hurry, because his patience is running out!”

Tuck turned his horse and the others fell into line behind him, and they rode without speaking, until they were below the top of the wash.

“Tanda, when you get off, hand your reins to me. Lion, give yours to Zokala. Zokala, once you have the reins, give them a jerk and then kick your horse forward. I’ll do the same. We’ll run them across the wash, kicking up as much dust as we can as we go. They may or may not see that we’ve lost two riders. That doesn’t matter...just go.”

They reached the bottom and Tanda watched them go, then she and Lion ran a few steps and found the fuse. They faded into the shadows and prepared to wait.

“Have you ever seen much fireseed explode?” Tanda asked Lion.

“No, but many times I’ve seen rifles fire. It is larger, yes?”

“Very much larger. At their fort, we were more than a mile away, and a finger from one of their soldiers landed on Tazi’s back, blown that far from the explosion.”

“Will we be safe, daughter?”

“If we run really fast, then hide really good!” Tanda chuckled.

Their voices were soft whispers, barely audible a few steps away. They heard the first of the God-King’s soldiers start down the wash.

Across the wash, two cannon boomed. A moment later, men could be heard screaming in pain and agony. “Case shot,” Tanda breathed. Lion, for the first time in her experience looked a little pale and nervous. Tanda patted his arm, and then waved as she saw the signal mirror flashing. “Come father, let us do our part!”

She lit the fuse and then the two of them were off running, getting further from the wagons.

The explosion wasn’t quite the catastrophe at the Zarthani camp, but it was quite spectacular. They heard a rumble of rock and both of them craned to look. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to see: that much rock mixed with a lot of men.

“Hundreds!” Lion breathed, just barely audible. “I’ve killed hundreds of them! Daughter! I could die happy now!”

Tanda hit him on the arm as hard as she could. He winced in obvious pain. “Lord Tuck teaches that it is better that the God-King’s soldiers die in his service than we die! Pay attention!”

He chuckled. “Daughter! Have you no respect?”

She shook her head.

Lion looked again at the carnage. “Your Lord Tuck is right, though. This is...like the first time I was with a woman. Maybe, now that memory fades, this was better.” He waved at the rock fall. “For some things, memory will never fade.”

Tanda nodded. “Did you notice that the road is broken? That there is no way for the God-King’s men to descend here, except under artillery fire? That Lord Tuck wanted them to go east?”

Lion rocked back and looked north, looking steadily for several heartbeats.

“Hunting lions, you have to be careful. Better, if they come at you when and where you expect them to be. If they take you by surprise, usually you die. Once, as a very young man, I saw a pretty flower and bent over to pick it, to take back to one of my wives. The lion missed its strike.” He chuckled. “Since then, I have brought my wives many flowers! Soon, I will take you to meet them!”

The God-King’s soldiers weren’t coming down into the wash, that was certain. When it was dark, Tanda and Lion moved carefully, aiming a little west of where the road climbed out of the wash.

When they got up on top there weren’t many of Tuck’s men left, just a few who marched back and forth in front of the fires. They all quickly started running, heading north.

III

Gamelin watched as his men finished loading the last of the wagons. The stench of the battlefield made it very difficult for all of them, but he’d known the importance of being with his men until their duty was complete. The last of the wagons creaked into motion and they finally left the slaughter behind.

He could see Lady Judy and her people a little ways to the north, working over the pile of corpses that they’d killed first, the God-King’s cavalry. Vosper saw his gaze and smiled. “Lord Tuck is a canny man.”

“I don’t understand,” Gamelin told him. “We searched them already.”

“Lord Tuck thinks that the man who commanded the God-King’s soldiers here was a cavalry officer. He thinks the man died there, as well as their van commander. Lord Tuck thinks it would be nice to see if there are any interesting messages with him. We searched rather fast the other day, Lieutenant.”

“Sometimes,” Gamelin said glumly, “I feel like a fool.”

The sergeant shook his head. “Lieutenant, you are a young officer. Now, more experienced than most, which isn’t the same thing as experienced. In truth, I’ve never served with an officer as good as Lord Tuck. I think the High King is better, but I honestly don’t know. I certainly know that Lord Tuck has an uncanny way of shaping events so they go his way.”

“A sorcerer?”

Vosper made a rude noise and Gamelin looked abashed. “No more than Lady Judy!” the sergeant told him a heartbeat later.

That was something that didn’t bear thinking about. Gamelin was sure he knew Judy’s mind. If both of them were sorcerers, then everything was a lie. He couldn’t accept that.

His sergeant waved at the setting sun. “It will be dark soon. We should get into position.”

That was easy enough. He gave the orders and they headed for the gap between the hills. What a clever idea! He thought as they approached. It would be the work of perhaps two palm widths to switch the artillery to the other gap. He’d made sure the captured guns were loaded and ready. The only advice he’d had was from a sergeant who usually commanded one of the Hostigi field guns and now commanded the battery of captured cannon.

“Case shot, sir,” the sergeant had told Gamelin. “Ball is nice for reaching a lot further, but at long range balls just scare people. We need to kill them, sir. Balls just kill one or two. When they get close, Lieutenant, case shot! Ah! Case shot! We will do more than scare them and we will kill more than one or two!”

In spite of his nervousness, Gamelin fell asleep a little before midnight. Vosper woke him a few palm widths later.

“Lord Tuck and the others are perhaps a palm width away.”

Gamelin got up, rubbing his eyes. He took a quick swig from a wineskin, rinsed his mouth and spat it out.

Lord Tuck appeared out of the dark at Gamelin’s elbow and grinned at him. “I see the guns are in position!”

“Yes, Lord Tuck!” Gamelin tried to pretend he wasn’t startled. That had been a very short palm width!

“We killed a couple of hundred at the wash. After a bit, they started east like I wanted. Then they turned north like I wanted. We were preparing the first night attack on their camp when all of sudden there were bugles and commands. A few heartbeats later they were all vanishing towards the east.”

Gamelin recalled the map and shook his head. “There are mountains there.”

Lord Tuck smiled. “Yes. The last report I had from Lady Tanda’s Ruthani was that they were toiling up a six thousand foot ridge. Vertax says that from there, if they were to head northeast, they would come to some decent passes, then could turn due north, to reach one of the other main towns of the Northern Regime of the God-King. He thinks that word has spread there of our attack and success, and that they are having trouble keeping order.”

Gamelin shrugged. “They could also go north and then turn northwest and cut us off from Outpost.”

Lord Tuck nodded. “They could. But we have a base close by and they don’t. Forty thousand men will eat several wagonloads of food a day. Assuming they can get the wagons over the mountains.”

“You think they’re gone?” Gamelin had trouble imagining that.

“I think it means they think they have broken contact. We will let the men sleep tonight. Tomorrow we too will head east. I’m sending some of the captured artillery and all but six mortar tubes back to Xipototec. In Xipototec, there are now three thousand men to man the walls, and they’ve been exercising the big guns as well. A thousand women are also learning to shoot. Another few moon quarters and the God-King will need forty or fifty thousand soldiers to take Xipototec.”

“What if they send more men from the town to our south?” Gamelin asked.

“Two things. If they are having trouble to the east, it means likely they are also having trouble in the south. Troops would be held back, to make sure they had things under control. They would have logistical problems trying to move north.

“Then, they were supposed to have 80,000 troops there. We killed a quarter of them, and now 40,000 are marching away, to the east. If I commanded Huspai with the same number of troops that could hardly even slow the people marching on my city–I’d be very wary of anyone who suggested sending even one soldier away.”

The council of war was short, and then Lord Tuck and his men collapsed on their blankets. They’d marched forty miles in a day, fighting two big battles and a skirmish. Gamelin could only shake his head in wonder. A soldier could dream of winning one battle like that! Lord Tuck won them again and again, with as little seeming effort as a man pulling on his boots!

He stared for a short while towards where Lady Judy and her people were camped, several hundred yards away. Lord Tuck had done them no real favor today. They’d marched just as far as his men, but his men were camped well away from the stench of the battlefield. He laughed to himself. To think he thought this was favoritism!

IV

Meeting Captain-General Hestophes the second time was anticlimactic for Legios. The other had taken his salute, and then had stared appraisingly at Legios.

“So, now you’ve seen the elephant.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain-general smiled. “Were you afraid?”

“Yes, sir. At first. But Brigadier Markos knows what he’s about. We made short work of the first Mexicotál attack. They didn’t come at us yesterday at all.”

“Indeed, they didn’t. They did, however come after the rest of us. As Brigadier Markos, I too know a thing or two.”

“It was a great victory, sir!” Legios said stoutly.

“A double victory, Legios. A double victory. We beat them, and more importantly, allowed the High King to get behind them. We no longer face an army...we face a rabble. A dangerous thing, a rabble, but not as dangerous as an army.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Colonel Count Nicomoth has asked that you come to him, young man. How say you?”

“An engineer, Captain-General?” Legios was stunned.

“Yes. You won’t get to do any engineering for a while, though...just supervision of troops under someone else’s command. Of course, that’s going to be your lot no matter where you fetch up. However, if you do well the High King would undertake your education at the University of Hostigos. The fly in that ointment is that every year you spend in school, you owe the High King another year of service.”

That was fair and Legios was pleased. Such employment was offered only to the very best officers.

However the captain-general wasn’t finished with choices. “Brigadier Markos, however, suggested you might be better employed in something more active.”

Legios swallowed. He was going to be given a choice? He swallowed again. How could he know what was right? He looked at the captain-general. “Sir, I want to do whatever is best for Hostigos.”

“Then I have just the thing for you.” Hestophes looked at Legios and smiled. “One of the High King’s secrets...not so secret now, since we used mortars to slow the attack in the west.”

“Mortars, sir?” Legios asked, running the unfamiliar word around his mind, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if every man in the army knew it,” the captain-general said and laughed. “Report to Captain Halkon of the Heavy Weapons Company. They are currently camped a bit north of the western-most hill.

“You are now Junior Lieutenant Legios, and you will do whatever Captain Halkon asks of you. He needs a capable second-in-command. You are a little young, but you’ve seen the elephant. Go, Lieutenant!”

Legios went outside and found that the old sergeant, the one who’d given him the magnificent horse, was waiting for him again, again with the same horse.

“Why, sergeant?” Legios asked.

The veteran smiled. “Our captain-general is a man as fine as a man is. His wife, alas, was wounded early in the war with Styphon, and may not have children. Battle, sir, is the center of their lives. He feels a duty to sponsor likely young lads. In this case, you, sir.”

“You remind him of himself as a boy. He wanted to serve the High King and didn’t know how. He learned everything he could, never seeking advancement. Still such officers are rare and Hestophes did well, very well. The High King recognized his abilities, and when Captain-General Harmakros fell, the High King picked Hestophes to replace him.

“Now, Lieutenant, you need to forget all of this, accept the gift in the spirit it was given and get yourself to Captain Halkon. He’s busy this morning and needs an extra hand.”

After listening to the sergeant’s story, Legios felt a great desire to run his horse to his new assignment. Except he had several miles to go and he’d been told to be quick. A gallop would be too much, but the horse covered ground at a trot quite fast.

He pulled up at a cluster of wagons and looked around. A few hundred yards away was a cluster of senior officers. Legios swung down from his horse and was debating what to do when a man with sergeant’s stripes beckoned to him. “Sir, what may we do for you?”

“Is this the Heavy Weapons Company? Captain Halkon?”

“Aye, sir. But the captain’s busy at the moment. Do you have a message for him?”

“No, I’ve been assigned to him.”

The sergeant grinned then. “Ah, just in time! If I say mortar, Lieutenant, what do you say?”

“I say I was told it was a secret.”

“What do you know of the secret?”

“Nothing. I never heard the word before today and the captain-general didn’t explain what he meant.”

“Perfect!” The sergeant spun on his heel and whistled loudly.

A man who had been sitting with a group of other soldiers stood up.

Legios paled. That was the largest man he’d ever seen! He was head and shoulders taller than any man in the camp, and as wide as two normal men. His arms were like the thickest limbs of a tree, his legs veritable tree trunks.

“Brother! We have our trainee!”

The big man bent over and picked up some things that Legios couldn’t clearly see. The other men trailed the out-sized sergeant as he came towards Legios.

“Sergeant Big Mortar, sir, at your service!” the mountain saluted.

Legios saluted back, not sure what to do.

The sergeant’s eyes drifted to Legios’ horse. “Cavalry, sir?”

“Sixth Mounted Rifles,” Legios informed him, standing proud.

“Ever fire a cannon before?” the big sergeant continued his questioning.

“No, sergeant. I watched it done a whole bunch of times the day before yesterday.”

The sergeant clapped Legios on the shoulder, careful not to dismember Legios with the blow. “Outstanding!”

He turned to the others. “Make up the packs. The tube goes to the lieutenant, I’ll carry the base plate and Corporal Hollar will carry the bipod. The rest of the team carries rounds for the mortar. Move!”

Hands gripped Legios. Gently, politely, but very firmly, he was spun around and he felt a pack being cinched to his back, then abruptly, it was a very heavy pack. He staggered, but recovered, working his shoulders to get it set right. When he finished he was aware the big sergeant had been watching him.

“Ready, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Just follow me, sir.”

The sergeant hoisted a pack and slung it one-handed around his shoulders. It seemed to be a large, heavy, odd-shaped piece of metal. “Move out!” the sergeant commanded, and started jogging towards the group of senior officers.

Legios turned and followed him, not knowing at all what was going on and hoping that the sergeant wasn’t about to humiliate him. Legios had taken a half dozen steps when he realized that the pack wasn’t just heavy, it was really heavy. He focused, watching his step, not wanting to trip. A glance over his shoulder showed a beefy corporal close behind, with what looked like a heavy backpack himself, then three more men following in his footsteps, the first sergeant he had met bringing up the rear.

The huge sergeant trotted past the group of senior officers, made a square turn and headed for the man who stood in front of the rest.

The sergeant stopped and turned to face the assembled officers and Legios followed suit. The others did as well.

The officer in front of the group, a lean, rather short captain, waved at the sergeant. “This, my brother officers, is the High King’s secret weapon.”

One of the colonels laughed. “Aye, give me a thousand like him and I’ll be in Baytown before winter!”

There was a chorus of laughter from the other officers.

Legios sensed the sergeant lean close, so that his mouth was an inch from Legios’ ear. “Watch carefully, sir!”

The man’s voice was a soft whisper, his lips scarcely moving.

The sergeant shrugged out of his pack and took off the metal plate and placed it on the ground. While he was doing that, someone was fumbling with straps on Legios’ pack. Another man was taking something off the third man’s pack. The man from behind Legios appeared, carrying a metal tube about three feet long and big enough around to swallow an arm.

The other man with something in his hands was carrying what looked like a “V” of metal not quite as tall as the tube.

They worked right in front of Legios, and Legios could see well enough. There was a flange on the tube and a piece on the legs slid inside it. The man with the tube leaned down over the metal plate, set on the ground, slid a piece at the bottom of the tube in a flange in the plate on the ground, then turned the tube a half circle, then lowered the metal pins to the ground. Now the tube leaned at an angle, resting solidly on the ground.

“There it is, my brothers! The High King’s secret weapon, called a ‘mortar.’” The officer Legios assumed was Captain Halkon told his fellow officers.

He paused, and then pointed to Legios. “You, Lieutenant. Are you my new officer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Name, rank, last unit, duties.”

“Legios, junior lieutenant, Sixth Mounted, messenger for Brigadier Markos.”

“I understood you also acted as the brigadier’s aide.”

“Sir, for one battle. Two, if you count yesterday.”

There were guffaws among the assembled officers. “You mean,” one of the colonels said, “yesterday wasn’t hot enough for you?”

“Sixth Mounted wasn’t engaged yesterday,” someone else replied. “Two days ago they were. Hot enough and then some!”

“You understand, Lieutenant,” Captain Halkon spoke gently to Legios, “that the rational plan for the Mexicotál would have been to send their entire force up the road. Yesterday would have counted then, eh?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to disparage anyone. We were in the reserve; yesterday was quiet for us is all I meant.”

“Lieutenant, disassemble the weapon.”

The command from the captain startled Legios.

Legios leaned down and gripped the tube and lifted the legs a few inches off the ground. Then he twisted and lifted and the tube came away easily from the base. A man came up and gripped the legs, and Legios slid the barrel down, unlocked it from the legs. Another man took the tube from Legios and reattached it to Legios’ pack, while the men with the legs hung them on another man’s pack, while the big sergeant slung the plate of metal over his shoulder and others help secure it to his back.

“There you have it, gentleman,” Captain Halkon said. “A lieutenant from the Sixth, who I’m sure has never seen a mortar before,” he turned to Legios. “You haven’t, have you?”

“No, sir!” Legios replied firmly.

“A lieutenant from the Sixth Mounted can disassemble one, with, shall we say, minimal instruction?”

There were laughs from the officers.

“Now, lieutenant, reassemble the weapon. Begin by taking the base plate off Big Mortar’s back.”

Legios walked over and lifted the piece of metal.

And he’d thought the tube was heavy! The plate was close to fifty pounds! He took the plate and started to place it on the ground. The plate was shaped oddly. One long side, two short sides at right angles to the long side. Then, each two still shorter sides, this time at 45-degree angles with the two middle-sized sides.

He realized that he was placing the plate turned a half turn from where it had been the first time. At the last moment, he made the half turn and dropped it. A few heartbeats later the legs and the tube and they too were assembled. He turned and faced the captain, without speaking.

“There you have it again, brothers! A lieutenant who has never seen a mortar before today can place one with just a few heartbeats of instruction. Who noticed when the lieutenant realized that if he put the base plate down willy-nilly, it would have been aimed at you?”

It took a heartbeat for the officers to react, and then they all laughed. Evidently, Legios had noticed something they hadn’t. But then, they hadn’t been inches away, looking at marks in the dirt, either. Would they have noticed if they had been in his shoes? Legios hoped it would have been most of them.

Captain Halkon waved to the two sergeants, standing next to each other. “This mountain of a man is Big Mortar, his brother, closer to our size, is Short Mortar. Gentlemen, these men are sergeants because they are masters of the art of aiming mortars. Big, if you would, a small demonstration.”

The sergeant walked close to the mortar, leaned down and gave it a twist, so it now pointed directly away from the group. Legios winced. More than a hundred pounds! At least! He might have been able to move it a few inches at a time, but no more!

Big Mortar took something from his brother, walked over to the tube, and slid it too into another flange.

For the first time Legios noticed a wagon with three wheels, tilted at crazy angles about a mile away, across the open ground to their west. There were about a dozen poles with what looked like scarecrows tied to them in a cluster a few yards away from the wagon.

Big stood up from the tube and nodded at Captain Halkon.

“What Sergeant Big attached to the mortar just now was a set of two screws. One set moves the tube right or left, the other set moves it up or down. If you move the tube to the left, the bomb drops further to the left, and the same if turned to the right. If you lift the tube, the round drops closer to the tube, while if you drop it, it goes further away.”

One of the officers growled, “That’s backwards. Artillery goes further, the higher you lift it.”

Captain Halkon grinned. “Up to a 45-degree angle, Colonel. Then it reverses.”

He spoke now to all of them. “A mortar is a high angle weapon, as some of you noticed yesterday. We fired them over the top of a hill, immune from their artillery. We have signalers who tell our gunners which way to shift their shots.”

“Your mortars killed maybe five hundred men, yesterday,” one of the officers stated. “Count Alkides’ guns killed more than a hundred thousand.”

Captain Halkon nodded. “I don’t think my boss is claiming quite that many...but close to that number. You’re correct. As a weapon to stop a numerous enemy, it does lack punch. However, please.”

He waved and Big Mortar dropped something from his hand into the tube and ducked down, covering his head with his hands.

There was a “Bam!” and for a few heartbeats, Legios could actually see the mortar round rising. He lost track of it quickly, and then looked out at the wagon. The round landed a few feet short, churning up a black fountain.

Legios blinked. An exploding shell! Something he’d heard talked about, but no one thought possible, because the shock of a round being fired was as hard as when it landed. Explosive shells would explode, theory said, as often when fired as when they landed. And all Big Mortar had done was duck his head!

“You will note,” Captain Halkon continued his lecture, “that by eye, with none of the equipment we have for aiming, Big Mortar got the first round within a few feet of the wagon.”

“It takes about a day or so to train a common soldier to aim a mortar.”

Again, the one officer spoke up. “It takes many moons to teach an artillery man.”

“Mortars are a lot simpler, as you’ve seen. Three words whispered from my sergeant were enough to train a young officer to assemble and disassemble it. Lieutenant, your name again?”

“Legios, sir.”

“Fine. Now, Big, destroy the wagon.”

The sergeant twisted the screws for about two heartbeats and then dropped another bomb in the tube and Legios watched it fly. He was unprepared for the sergeant to immediately drop another bomb and then another, in rapid succession. The first landed after the last left the tube. It struck square in the middle of wagon bed, shattering the wagon. The next two also hit close enough to throw bits and pieces of the wagon around.

Legios shaded his eyes. The wagon was burning rubble. A mile away. The sergeant had hit a wagon a mile away, with the second shot. Legios counted himself a fair rifle shot, but he couldn’t do that or even come close to it with a rifle.

“Big, have you considered the earlier request I made?”

“Yes, sir. And the answer is yes.”

“Lieutenant Legios, advance to the mortar.”

Legios walked forward, a little nervous. Big Mortar smiled at him. “Sir, at this range, a quarter twist of the screw moves the impact ten yards.” His voice boomed loud enough, it seemed, to have echoes off the hills.

Legios nodded, glad to know that bit of information. “Here, sir. Don’t drop it.”

The sergeant handed Legios one of the shells that mortar used. It was heavy, maybe fifteen or twenty pounds. It did look wicked.

After a heartbeat, the sergeant reached for the shell, and Legios gave it back. “Sir, on the base are these,” Big Mortar told Legios. “These” were hard, round black disks that were attached to the base of the shell.

“These come off sir, with a half twist,” he demonstrated, removing one of the disks. Legios nodded.

“Sir, one disk and the mortar can hit at a quarter mile at a 45-degree elevation of the tube. Each disk after that increases the range a quarter of a mile. Maximum of six disks. The range here is a mile, even, sir.”

“Four disks, then,” Legios said. Big Mortar held the shell out to him and Legios twisted off one more disk.

“You are, sir, holding in your hands several ounces of explosive. Smokeless explosive.”

Legios wanted to thump his forehead in shame! He hadn’t noticed!

“If it were to go off now, sir, you’d lose your hand.”

“What should I do with it, sergeant?”

Big Mortar smiled slightly. “Sir, these explode if hit sharply. The regulations say that because they are expensive and hard to make, so we should conserve them.”

Instead, Big Mortar tossed one into the distance. There was a small “pop” and a puff of dust. “We do what we can, sir, to keep safe. In a battle like yesterday, we had more than a thousand disks left over. We had men take them back a safe distance from the firing line. We want to be safe, sir. It was luck just now that it hit a rock and went off. Mostly, they don’t.”

Legios nodded. It was like Sergeant Lenardes of the Engineers, following the High King’s regulations to keep safe.

“Now, Lieutenant,” Captain Halkon spoke again. “If you would. Aim the mortar at that group of men a short distance from the wagon.”

Legios stared at the group of stakes. It was a mile away! How was he supposed to do this? Then he remembered Big Mortar’s simple words.

Ten yards per quarter turn. The question then was, how far away were the poles from the wagon?

He swallowed, quite nervous at the regard from a group of officers, all majors or colonels. Twenty yards closer, thirty yards to the right, he thought. He bent down and gave the screw that was up and down a quarter turn forward. He saw the tube move slightly downwards. That was further, he remembered. He twisted it the other way, now more confident. One quarter turn to get it back where it had been, then two more quarter turns. Then he gripped the screw that was flat and twisted it a quarter turn to the right, carefully watching the tube. It went right, so he gave it two more quarter twists.

He stood and looked again at the stakes. There was just no way to judge accurately, he thought. What were the odds it was an even twenty yards or thirty yards? Probably not.

“Ready, sir,” Legios said.

“Kneel next to the tube, sir,” Big Mortar told him. Legios remembered the crouch the sergeant had been in, and dropped down as he’d seen.

“Like any cannon, sir, you don’t want to think about what happens to your hand if it is in front of the mortar when it goes off. There’s about a heartbeat to get your hand away. When we are firing volleys, the first command is ‘Ready,’ which means you take a shell in your hand. The second command is ’Hang,’ where you place the little fins at the back of the round, two inches inside the tube. The command ‘Fire’ means you drop the round, get your hand out of the way and duck your head down.”

Legios nodded.

“Ready, sir,” the sergeant told Legios.

Legios took the round and held it close to the tube, but not over it. “Hang, sir!”

He slid the fins in, realizing that if he let go now, even by accident, the shell would fall down the tube. “Fire, sir!”

Legios dropped the heavy shell, letting the natural movement of his hand take his hand below the top of the tube and ducked his head. The “Bamm!” of the shot echoed around him.

He lifted his head after a heartbeat and stared at the poles. The explosion in the distance was a few feet to one side of the poles, but level with them. It wasn’t nearly as close as the sergeant had gotten to the wagon.

“Now, gentleman, we go for a short wagon ride,” Captain Halkon announced.

A wagon was brought up and the officers climbed into it. While they were doing that, Big Mortar grinned at Legios. “Let’s see what kind of shape you’re in, sir! Follow me!”

The sergeant set off at a run for the poles. Legios fell in next to him. It wasn’t a comfortable pace, and Legios had to push himself to keep up. When they pulled up close to the poles, the sergeant regarded him. Legios knew he was winded, and was concerned about what the sergeant would think of him.

“Pretty good for mounted infantry, sir! Now, get your breath. Try to be breathing normally when the officers get here.”

The wagon was barely halfway, Legios saw. There was plenty of time to get his breathing back under control.

Captain Halkon walked up to the small crater that the round had left, picking up a piece of metal a few feet away. “A mortar round is scored on the inside, so that it will break into many pieces. Further, wrapped around the fireseed charge, are many pieces of lead shot.”

He walked a few feet to the nearest scarecrow, and pulled off an old tunic top. Legios was stunned! There were a half dozen holes in it!

“As you can see, even though the round hit six feet away, the closest man would have been killed. Probably, in a cluster like this we’d have killed one or two more, wounded two or three others.”

One of the officers sniffed. “One of Count Alkides’ guns, firing a single round of case shot would have killed or wounded all of them.”

“At a mile, likely just wounded most of them,” Captain Halkon said, mostly agreeing with him. “However, I remind you of who fired the weapon: a lieutenant who was an ensign yesterday and never saw a mortar until just now.”

Captain Halkon waved at the man who’d spoken. “Major, if a quarter turn moves the gun ten yards at a mile, how many turns should be added now to bring the gun on target?”

“Six feet,” the major said, “a fifth of a quarter turn. That would be tricky.”

Legios started in surprise. The major was wrong! How could that be?

Worse, Captain Halkon had seen Legios react. “You disagree with the major, don’t you, Lieutenant?”

Legios didn’t want to speak. Lieutenants don’t correct majors.

“Come, Lieutenant,” Captain Halkon insisted, “We are professional soldiers, officers of the High King. The High King has allowed that once or twice he’s made a mistake! So, how would you have adjusted the screws?”

“Sir, the center of the group is about twenty feet from where the round landed. A smidge more than an eighth of a turn.”

“Very good, Lieutenant Legios,” Captain Halkon told him. Then the captain turned to the other officers. “The proper use of the mortar is not massed volleys in a major battle. It is harassing, indirect fire against targets not widely dispersed. The reason Lieutenant Legios is here is that he has cavalry expertise that my gunners lack. Imagine, gentleman, being a Mexicotál soldier, sleeping tonight after the debacle yesterday.

“Imagine a troop of our cavalry pulling up a mile away, taking position in a piece of dead ground. They fire a dozen rounds from their mortars. At the very least, we’d ruin their sleep.”

“It’s still pinpricks,” the one major replied, being obstinate.

One of the colonels spoke up. “A bucket, no matter how large, with enough pinpricks in it, will empty. As the morale of an army with enough pinpricks in it will empty.”

There were, Legios thought, a lot of sage nods. There were more questions and comments, then the officers all boarded the wagon to return to the camp.

Big Mortar turned to Legios. “Let me be the first to give you an honest welcome to the Heavy Weapons Company, lieutenant!”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, Lieutenant. That’s what sergeants do, you know. Answer the questions of junior officers.”

Legios wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or just an observation. “Why is it called the Heavy Weapons Company? The mortars don’t really have that much of an impact.”

The huge sergeant laughed. “Yes and no. If a shell landed next to you, you’d think it large enough. More importantly, sir, the men named the company. How would you have liked to run the mile out here, carrying a tube?”

Legios tried not to blush. Maybe he’d have made it, most likely not. If he’d managed the run, he’d have been flat on his back the rest of the day!


	27. Once More, Unto the Breach

I

Judy stood next to Tuck, watching the ranks of soldiers toiling along the road that led up the ridge. After weeks of this she knew how much it would take out of the soldiers to reach the top of the ridge. She grinned to herself and then turned to Tuck. “What’s it like to fight in the plains?”

“It’s not any fun. It’s easier to make a mistake. They can come at you six ways from Sunday. It’s harder to conduct an ambush, unless you’re in broken country; that is, with some hills and the occasional river or forest. Still, an army has to eat, and so the goals and objectives aren’t that much different.”

“Why are we getting so far from Xipototec?”

Tuck sighed. “It’s defended reasonably well. It would be defended even better if we were there. Except we can’t win if we stay on the defensive. I’m sure I could hold it against all comers...for a while. But unless the God-King is decisively defeated, he’ll come for it one day in strength we can’t hope to match.

“You have to think honestly to yourself: if the God-King sued for peace today, pulling back like the Zarthani did, letting us keep our gains, Xipototec would be hanging out here in the middle of the desert like a ripe fig. Four or five years down the road, do you think the High King would go to war with the God-King if they took it back?”

“I’d like to think he would,” Judy told him.

“In 1956 the Hungarians revolted against the Soviet Union. We could have sent them help,” Tuck told Judy. “Except we didn’t. We stood by and let the Soviets murder thousands of people, because we’d have lost millions in a general war with the Soviet Union. It would be asking an awful lot of the High King to put hundreds of thousands of his people at risk to save a few tens of thousands in Xipototec.

“So yeah, I’d like to think he’d march anyway. You don’t make your allies comfortable if you’re willing to toss one of them to the wolves when the going gets tough.

“But let us win, and win big–that’s a different story, particularly if the people from Xipototec play an important part in that victory. It’s why the Ruthani are so stupid. You know about the minerals down in their part of Arizona?”

Judy shook her head.

“Well, guess what? One of Gamelin’s soldiers knows some of the economically important rocks and reported finding them to Gamelin. And Gamelin passed the word on to Count Errock, telling Count Errock that he’d assured the Ruthani that the High King has no designs on their territory. It’s why Captain Leitnos stayed with the Ruthani. It’s why I went out of my way to tell the Ruthani the same thing. In the long run, those economic assets will be developed. Those assets would go a far piece toward securing the Ruthani’s future if they are in charge of exploiting them.

“Where we’re from, we didn’t exactly distinguish ourselves with our relations with the Indians. We lied, stole and cheated them. Exterminated them like vermin. It was a little more equal here, but not much.”

“So, we’re going to attack the God-King,” Judy said, ignoring Tuck’s attempt to change the subject.

“That’s the plan. We will keep between Xipototec and this General Thanos we talked to. We have scouts towards their big town south of Xipototec and Hostigi signalers with the scouts. If they send a force towards Xipototec we’ll turn around and make forced marches, trying to beat them. It’s not the safest thing in the world, but it’s the best we can do.”

“And what happens if we catch the God-King’s soldiers ahead of us?”

“We harass, we raid. A couple of ambushes. Count Errock is sending word to the High King that we’re out here and what we’re doing, but that word’s not likely to reach the High King before fall. When we get a little further east, I’ll think about sending word ahead of ourselves.”

He grinned and motioned the two of them to start forward, the last of the soldiers having passed, but ahead of the column of wagons and artillery. Way in the back Gamelin commanded the rear guard, two hundred mounted Hostigi.

They rode easily, used to walking and marching. Riding a horse was a piece of cake.

“How is your company coming along?” Tuck asked Judy.

“Very well. We took the half dozen horses you gave us and we’re teaching everyone to ride. Everyone gets an palm width or two a day on a horse. Tanda is still working with us on our scouting skills. Her father is helping us, too. We can usually find the Ruthani now, but finding those two is very hard. Tanda we’ve found a few times. We’ve never found Lion.”

“A year and a half ago, Mac and I went hunting javelina in the same mountains not far from where we arrived here. There were a bunch of us, as usual. Mac and I were the scouts, and we circled round and started walking towards where the others were waiting, hoping to get the critters moving their way.”

Tuck laughed. “I was walking along a ridge line, not much different than this one, just below the crest, and Mac made a pumping motion with his hand: the signal to stop and take cover. So, I stopped, wondering what he was trying to tell me. I didn’t go to ground.

“He went up the ridge at a dead run, to get the others moving towards me.” Tuck chuckled. “Mac would have been right at home with these folks. He can run and run and run. I saw the others filtering along the ridge top. I was flat mystified about what was going on.

“I heard the tiniest rustle and turned my head slightly, to see a javelina a few feet away from me, trying to sneak by. I pretended I didn’t see it and it kept going. Then Mac yelled, ‘Hoorah!’ and we both shouted and waved our arms.

“I’d walked right into the middle of a herd. Maybe twenty of them were within a dozen feet of me at one point, Mac said. From where he was, he could see them sneaking past me.

“Anyway, we spooked them and they charged down a wash, where the others were waiting. A bad day for that javelina herd.”

“Hoorah?” Judy asked.

“Sure, it’s a term used in the Old West. That’s what you did when you made a lot of noise to drive cattle or other animals that were a little reluctant to travel. It also referred to something bad guys did to a town, to cow it.”

He looked at her steadily for a second. “Tonight, you will take your people to one side of the camp, out of line of sight with the rest of the camp. Tell your people that there will be a night exercise after midnight and they must listen closely to their sergeants and their officer. They are not to tell anyone about the exercise.”

“Yes, Tuck,” Judy said confidently.

“Your orders are to stay down, keep down, and keep your people safe.”

Judy looked at him, not sure what he meant. “I don’t understand.”

“Gamelin’s company will fire a single illumination round, high over the camp. Then they will each fire a single rifle shot into the air. Then they too will get down and stay down.” He looked Judy in the eye. “We’ve come a long way teaching the men fire discipline. They are pretty good when they are psyched up, when they know a battle is at hand or if they are training. They talk to each other, they joke, they crow about how easy it is to kill the God-King’s soldiers.

“What they will do when taken by surprise, that I don’t know. Their sergeants will be screaming at them not to shoot.”

Judy remembered the first raid on the Zarthani fort. “A lot of people could get hurt.”

Tuck nodded soberly. “I know. But it’s something they have to learn to deal with. We’ve done nothing but ambush and raid our enemies. One of these days, they are going to try it on us. I’d like to think we’d spot them coming in, and would give them a warm welcome. But we could just as easily miss them. The men have to know what to do. Do you understand?”

“Who knows about what’s going to happen?” Judy asked.

“You and Gamelin. Gamelin will tell Vosper tonight after we make camp. Captain Andromoth knows, at sunset his men will start double-hobbling the horses...his men won’t be told why, but some will guess.”

“Tanda?” Judy asked.

Tuck laughed. “No, not Tanda. Or Lion or any of the Ruthani. You’ll want to be sure you’re well away from the Ruthani camp. I’m actually fairly confident about our soldiers. I’m not nearly as confident about Tanda’s folks, even though Tanda and Lion have worked hard to get them straightened out.”

“And who should I tell?”

“That’s up to you. Me? I’d seriously consider not telling anyone.”

He waved towards the southwest. “Once in Nam, I was told we were going to have an alert in our camp at midnight–not the usual time for an alert. I told Mac about it. Hell, I told Mac about everything back then.

“The alert came down and there was a hell of a lot of confusion everywhere else except our team. We were there, in position, everything as ready as it should be.

“The alert ended at dawn and five minutes later my team commander was chewing me out. The purpose of a surprise alert, you see, is that it’s a surprise. Anyone can get set and ready with time to do so. The thing you have to practice is how to do it in a crunch. He was right.”

“What did you say to Mr. Mac?” Judy asked.

Tuck laughed. “Why, I told him that the boss had thanked me for having everyone up and ready, and making the team look so good. Mac knew what had happened and understood why I never told him about another alert.”

“There’s so much to learn!” Judy told him.

“Hey, if it was easy, anyone could do it, and we wouldn’t get the big bucks!”

II

Tanda Havra looked around and shook her head. “I do not understand Lord Tuck, father.”

Lion’s smile gleamed in the twilight. “He is a clever man. Cleverer than you, but not cleverer than me.”

Tanda looked at him with exasperation. “We camped early. We reached the top, but we could have covered a few more miles. It’s flat, his soldiers could have done it easily.”

“Yes, but we aren’t in a hurry, and it was a steep hill, daughter. Perhaps he wanted everyone rested.”

“And this!” Tanda said, ignoring him, sweeping her hand around at the terrain. “Look at these positions! We can’t see the main body! We can’t see Lady Judy and Tazi’s group! Lord Gamelin is well behind us.”

Lion had a sly look on his face. “Lord Tuck is preparing to meet an attack.”

Tanda was still frustrated. “He would have told us, if an attack was coming! He would at least have told me!”

“Daughter, you are not a soldier.”

She turned and looked him square in the eye. “And neither are you, father! You hunt, yes. But it isn’t the same.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t the same. However, I used to watch the soldiers of the High King very carefully. I wanted to learn their magic, so I could sneak up and steal their fireseed weapons. It took me many years to learn there was no magic–just practice.”

Tanda wanted to shake him. Instead, she stopped and considered. Lion wasn’t a fool. Tuck wasn’t a fool. Tuck was acting as if there was going to be an attack. She and the Ruthani were off to one side, with a deep ravine on two sides, rocky scree on the third, and the main camp up and over a small rise.

Lady Judy’s people were close to them, but down in another small depression. In order for anyone to attack Lady Judy they would have to come through the main camp, then the Ruthani. What was it called when you prepared for an attack that wasn’t coming? Lion had named it. Practice.

She bowed her head towards Lion. “Father, I apologize.”

“It is nothing but practice, daughter.” There was something about the way he spoke that brought her eyes back to him.

“Father, you are telling me something. Please, I am your daughter, and you are right. I’m not a soldier. It will be practice.”

“And what are you thinking of doing?”

Tanda frowned. “I was going to warn them to expect a false attack. To be careful, to prepare, but not to shoot.”

“They should know not to shoot, shouldn’t they?” he asked. “It is in the High King’s Field Regulations. Do you think Lord Tuck has them read once a moon to everyone else and every other day to the Ruthani without reason?”

Tanda grimaced. “You don’t think I should say anything.”

“You should say nothing,” he agreed. “And like me, find a place that our brothers and cousins will have a hard time shooting us by mistake.”

“We’ll look like fools again,” Tanda despaired.

“Daughter, Lord Tuck has to be able to trust his soldiers to do his bidding. The Ruthani don’t do as they are told. I have talked to them, you have talked to them. Pinyon has talked to them, but still too many do as they please.

“You, daughter, you were like them in the beginning! I’ve heard the stories! But you learned, didn’t you? You learned that what Tuck wanted was good sense, and you were stupid to fight it.

“Daughter, I want to kill these bastard sons of the God-King more than I want life itself. But our brothers and cousins do not bring the Lost Ruthani any credit–only shame. Better, I think, to send them all back. I think that is Lord Tuck’s intent. Tonight the Ruthani do as they should...or not. If not...”

“I won’t leave him,” Tanda told Lion.

Lion laughed. “Daughter, only a foolish woman would leave a man like Lord Tuck out of her sight for more than a few heartbeats! He is a great man, destined for great things.”

“And you, Lion?”

“Me? I told you, I want to kill the God-King. Nothing is more important to me than that.”

“Do me a favor, father,” Tanda told him.

“What, daughter?”

“Kill the old bastard, then go home to your wives and children, then live to a very old age and have even more sons and daughters. Don’t throw your life away...not even for the God-King.”

He smiled at her, but in her heart Tanda knew he’d trade his life for the God-King’s in an instant.

There was a rattle of stones and she turned and saw Tuck coming their way.

“Good evening, Lord Tuck!” Lion called. “A fine morning’s walk!”

Tuck grinned at him. “For you. It was a little tiring for most of the men.”

Tuck turned to Tanda. “I wanted to tell you that I was talking to Vertax earlier. He’s sure this General Thanos is going to try a raid against us soon. So, I asked the patrol you sent out earlier to tell the returning patrol to stay out a little longer, unless they’d seen any of the God-King’s soldiers.”

“Midnight, eh?” Tanda asked, smiling.

“No, they won’t be coming in at midnight. Not tonight,” he said patiently.

“I understand fine, husband-to-be. I understand perfectly.”

“Practice, Tanda, is just that. Exercise judgment and caution, even so.”

So, he suspected she knew. How could she bring herself to hint that without Lion, she would have known nothing, and would have been pleased to have a double patrol out in front of them, because she too worried about the God-King’s soldiers attacking them?

Long before midnight she was in a small depression that she improved by putting some of the plentiful rocks all around it, adding another foot or so to its depth.

One of the Ruthani “sergeants” had been by earlier. He’d sneered at the rocks, sneered again when she’d told him she wanted to be ready for a raid. “We will know, long before they come!”

Tanda had stood, reached out and took the man with one hand, and put her knife to his belly, just the point, enough to get his attention. “Yes, of course. Which is why Mogdai had a finger width’s warning. There were thousands of the God-King’s soldiers. Cannon! They brought cannon up and no one noticed any of them! Do not dare tell me, little man, about how good you and yours scout!”

She pushed him away and he tripped and fell. Even in the darkness she could sense his rage. From out of the darkness, right next to the fallen man, Pinyon’s voice came. “And of course, you saw me too, right?”

The man crabbed backwards, then turned and ran into Lion, who simply laughed, stroking his fang necklaces.

Tanda contemplated the man, and then turned to Pinyon. “They knew, didn’t they?”

“Do you know why I am here?” he asked.

Tanda shook her head, not understanding why that was germane.

“I talked to Gamelin’s man, the sergeant, Vosper. He told me that Lord Tuck argued that Count Errock could not win his war against his enemies by sitting in his fort, waiting for them to come against them or pass them by.

“That, Tanda Havra, is how we have fought for so many years! We are like a desert tortoise! We pull in our arms and legs! Above all, we hide our heads. Shame! Shame, daughter! That was never going to defeat our enemies! Never! And now, once again, we hide! Yes, we led most of our people to safety, and they are safe indeed. But like the desert tortoise, we were always doomed to lose against our enemies because we prize safety.

“Lord Tuck understands this! He understands it better than generation after generation of the Ruthani!”

In the distance there was the faint thump of a mortar firing. “Get down, Pinyon!” Tanda called to him.

Lion jumped into her hole with alacrity, a heartbeat later Pinyon landed atop Tanda. The night sky lit up, then as was undoubtedly signaled by the light, hundreds of rifles fired as one.

In spite of having Pinyon on top of her, Tanda bellowed. “Cover! Cover! If any man shoots before I say! I’ll kill him, if your sergeant hasn’t already!”

In the distance there was a rifle shot, then a second.

“Steady!” Tanda cried out as loudly as she could. “Steady! Find cover, be ready to fire on my command!”

A weight lifted off her body, and she knew Pinyon was gone. She worried for an instant, but couldn’t afford to keep quiet.

“Sergeants! Check your men! Check their positions! Section one to cover the scree to our rear! The rest, prepare to move as Lord Tuck commands!”

No one else fired. There had just been two shots from the main camp. In the distance, a bugle sounded...as if the God-King’s soldiers were charging. Then, from close by, a rifle fired into the darkness.

A few heartbeats later a man started screaming. A terrible, horrible scream...and the screaming didn’t stop.

Over the sound of the screams Lion’s voice rose, just as terrible in his own way. “He screams for his mother! He screams for his wife! Two Crows would have seen a new child when he returned home, but he can’t scream! He has a rifle bullet through his skull! So Fat Wind screams and screams for the both of them!”

An palm width later a runner appeared in the dark, saying it had been a drill, that the mock attack was done. The screaming hadn’t stopped and Tanda could see the young messenger’s eyes, wide and afraid, unable to turn away from the screams.

“It was a drill!” Tanda called as loudly as she could. “There was no attack! It was practice!”

The screams stopped the next instant.

“Build up the fire,” Tanda commanded. “I want to talk to you all.”

There were just forty-three, including Tanda, Pinyon and Lion, who assembled around the fire. Pinyon bowed to her, turned and walked away into the night.

“At dawn I will face Lord Tuck,” she told them. “I will tell him that I cannot control you. That I don’t want to lead you after this day.”

There were gasps and groans.

One of the men stood. “Lady Tanda, we want to follow you! I swear I will do as you command! Each and every thing!”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Two hundred and fifty of us went south. The Ruthani, the smallest part of Lord Tuck’s forces, have taken more casualties than all the rest of Tuck’s soldiers combined! Even now, tonight, we have two dead. There are forty-three of us here, two dozen more on patrol. Barely one man in four of what we started with! Another one in four of us are dead! One in four!”

She stared at the sergeant, who wilted. “What commander would want to command such as us? We kill each other, over and over...now and then we kill one or two of our enemies...while Lord Tuck’s men kill hundreds and thousands of them. Why? Why would I want to lead such fools as you?”

“You can’t punish us for one man who failed!” the sergeant tried to bluster.

“Forty-three of us, plus another two dozen out scouting! That’s of more than two hundred and fifty! Do you really think it was just one man who has failed?”

Out of the darkness Lord Tuck strode into the firelight, looking grim. “I understand, Lady Tanda, you had two casualties?”

“One man shot by accident,” Lion said. “One man gutted for firing when he shouldn’t.”

“Lord Tuck, I can no longer command these men,” Tanda told him.

There was an audible groan from the men around the fire.

She was unprepared for what Tuck said next. “Lady Tanda, do you really think you can excuse your failings as a commander by quitting?” He turned to the men.

“I offer you a simple choice. You may choose to stay with the army, or you may leave. All who stay are privates. Those who stay will choose a new sergeant; you don’t need more than that. The next time you fail to obey the High King’s field regulations, I’ll stand up every other one of you, to include your sergeant and shoot them.”

He turned on his heel and walked away.

Tanda sank down, sobbing, for the first time since she could remember.

Lion spoke. “Any of you are free to leave. If you do, I will hunt you down and kill you, but it’s your choice. Right now, I want Swift Fox and Bright Sun to fetch the two patrols and bring them back. I want them back here as close to sunset as you can get them. Tell them we will elect Lady Tanda as our sergeant, and me as your corporal. They too will have a choice...run or stay.”

“Lion,” Tanda said weakly.

“Shut up, daughter! It is time for these men to realize: the old ways are finished! Done! The High King and his men are going to win this war. How do you want the Ruthani to be remembered? Inconstant allies who couldn’t be relied on, even in camp? Do you want that? Eh?

“The High King is going to march west to punish the Zarthani. Perhaps he will defeat the God-King first, perhaps second. But he will come for the Zarthani. And where will the Ruthani be? What is to become of us is going to depend on what we do! Those of us here, because we are all that are left. Either we do well, or the High King will spit on hearing our names.

“I hope you have noticed that the High King has done what no man has done before: you were there, after all. You saw what happened at Xipototec. Of course, you might have been too busy getting yourselves and your brothers and cousins killed to notice.

“Perhaps you noticed at the battles south of Xipototec. Lord Tuck armed the Mexicotál slaves and serfs. They beat an army nearly three times their number in a standup fight! The next day they attacked the remnants, still stronger than they were and then dumped the bodies into a ditch! And that other army of the God-King? Do you think they wouldn’t have attacked if they thought they could win? Do you?

“Instead, they marched away. They are marching very fast, for our Mexicotál cousins can march as well as any man, and we can barely keep up! Do you know what it means when your enemy is marching away from you as fast as they can? That’s called running, my brothers! An army six or eight times our size flees before Lord Tuck!

“Now, you pull yourselves together! You do whatever it is you need to do. Listening when they read the High King’s Field Regulations to you would be a good idea!”

Lion grinned like the lion he was named after, then came the coughing roar of a lion. “Decide freely and for once, do what you are told!”

Tanda turned and saw Pinyon, standing still, his face empty of expression, looking at the Ruthani. “Pinyon?”

Without a word, he turned around and stood with his back to her and the rest of them, then, after a heartbeat, he started walking away.

Tanda Havra’s face turned to stone. She was supposed to be a Paracop. She was supposed to be an anthropologist, trained at the University of Dhergabar, the premiere institution in all of the time lines for the study of human culture. She was trained to be an observer, one who interacted as little as possible with those she observed.

But really, underneath the veneer they’d tried to apply to her, she was a simple village girl. This was about honor and duty to the village, to the people. None of the Home Timeline people could possibly understand it, it was at a visceral level she didn’t truly understand.

Screw the Paracops! Screw the University. What Tuck and Lord Kalvan was doing was as moral as humans can ever be. The Paracops weren’t moral, and how in the universe can it be moral to study people like bugs?

If she died, she died. She didn’t care. One more death in this war would go unremarked. I quit, Hadron Dalla. I quit, University of Dhergabar. I’m too polite to tell you where to go, all of you, but I quit. I’m going to help a man I love to right a terrible wrong. I going to help people too stupid by half, as stupid in their way as you are, to do what has to be done. All you can do is kill me, and while I don’t want to die, I don’t want to live like this either.

She opened her eyes and saw the Lost Ruthani standing in front of her, looking stricken.

“Raise your right hands!” she commanded loudly. Sure enough, several looked at her, questions written on their faces. She stepped to the closest one who hadn’t moved and slammed her fist into his stomach.

He grunted in pain, swayed, then belatedly lifted his right hand into the air.

“Raise your left hand!” she cried, her voice shrieking, breaking.

Another man close by dropped his right hand and put up his left. She slugged him hard, dropping him to the ground. “Who told you to put your hand down?”

She turned to face the Ruthani. Every last man had both hands in the air, including Lion.

She held out her hand in front of her and flexed her fingers. “Lord Tuck’s men move like the fingers of his hand, as he commands.”

She turned and walked away into the darkness.

III

Denethon sat on the camp chair, utterly weary, nearly exhausted. Gortan, the God-King’s high priest, was a few feet away, toying with a piece of very old, very unsavory horse meat. The priest finally pushed it away, unable to eat it. Flies would approach the meat and then abruptly veer off when they got close.

“There should be another courier soon, yes?” the priest asked Denethon.

“I hope so. The last word was that the main body was making a stand against the High King across the Big River. That was a moon quarter ago,” Denethon replied. “A moon quarter is a long time.”

The priest grimaced. Until he’d marched with the army, one day had seemed pretty much like another, unless it was sacrifice day and those blurred together as well.

“You said we had an important decision to make when the Xalapa River turns north.”

“Yes. Here, seventy miles to the southwest is the Big River. A moon quarter away. If we load every man up with all the water he can carry, we’ll reach the river thirsty, but alive. Most of the men will have chosen water over rifles and ammunition. We won’t be a significant military force for at least a moon, even after getting reequipped.

“If we follow the Xalapa River for another seventy miles, we’ll end up only thirty miles due east of the Big River. That will take us a moon quarter also. We would have a good chance of arriving with weapons and ammunition. Of course, it would take us most of a moon to make our way east again, to someplace where we can be useful.”

Denethon waved to the south. “This strip north of the Big River is dry and desolate. No one lives there, not even the High King’s bravest colonists.”

In the distance they could hear shouts, demanding way for a courier. Denethon shaded his eyes. After a moment, he sat back down. “The good news: horse will be on the menu again tonight.”

The priest couldn’t help licking his lips, savoring the taste in his imagination.

A palm width later, nothing tasted sweet.

“How can it be?” the priest asked in desperation. “The High King was said to have a hundred thousand men, when he flanked us! Hestophes fifty thousand! These numbers don’t make sense!”

“There is,” Denethon temporized, “always a chance that commanders have exaggerated to excuse their failures. I’ll grant you, the thought of Hestophes chasing us with more than a hundred thousand men is a matter of concern. But the High King’s quarter million men...I don’t see how that’s possible. That would be his entire army, plus a significant proportion of his regular levies. The only way for him to have a third of a million men in the field against us is if he called up everyone in his kingdom moons before we attacked. That is the only way to put them together and get them marching our way in the time he had. But even then...to have them present in functional formations on the battlefield?”

Of course, there was no chance that the God-King himself was telling an untruth when he reported that the army he had led personally was reeling back on his Northern Regime, utterly destroyed. And if that was true, then likely the story about Hestophes chasing Denethon and the sixty thousand survivors of Oaxhan’s debacle with a hundred thousand men was likely true too.

Denethon looked at the map and cursed. The problem with thinking like your enemy was that you know what you were thinking. It was easy to plot against yourself.

He looked at the assembled officers. “Tell the men to prepare for a forced march in the morning. We will be four days without water.”

The priest looked at Denethon, confused. “I do not understand, General.”

“Look at the map.” The other bent over the map, understanding the importance of maps where once they hadn’t been of the least interest.

“The Big River dips here and makes a ‘U,’ before it heads further west. Here,” Denethon put his finger on his only hope, “is where we are, seventy miles from the Big River. If I was Hestophes, I too would make a dry march.” Denethon’s finger traced a line across the top of the ‘U.’

“If we were to keep following the river, odds are, we’d have to fight Hestophes here. If we have to fight him anywhere other than the best ground imaginable, we’ll lose. We couldn’t win with the odds three to one in our favor. Three to one against...we will have to do unto Hestophes what he did to us. I think we have to assume he will be looking to prevent just that.”

“And so if we go as you say, we end up here?” the priest put his finger down, two days march southwest of where Hestophes would be.

“Exactly. When we get there we won’t do anything but drink our fill, fill our canteens and water bags and continue due west. We’d meet the Big River, here.”

“And then?” the priest asked.

Denethon met the man’s eyes. “Sir, everything south of the Big River is blank on all the maps I’ve seen.”

The priest stared at the table, not even at the map. His voice was hollow when he finally spoke. “You understand, the God-King has promised death to any outsider who sees a map of his lands?”

Denethon tapped the river. “Here we’ll have a choice. We can follow the river north and west, follow the river south and east, or do something else. If we make a mistake and head south and if Hestophes is going south, he’ll destroy us. If we miss him because he finds something better for all those men to do, we’ll face the High King. If a million and half men under the God-King himself couldn’t break the High King’s lines, I don’t think sixty thousand of us will do more than make him yawn.”

“Lord Denethon, you are a true man, loyal and faithful to your oaths, even when those around you are faithless. Once I would have thought differently, but I swear to you, I will protect you, so long as there is life in my body. I beseech you, Lord Denethon! These are men of the God-King! They deserve better than to be slaughtered! Save them!”

With that the high priest gestured and one of the assistant priests fetched another map.

Denethon studied it carefully.

“Here is Zacateca, the easternmost town of the Northern Regime.” The priest put his finger on a town on the map. “Here is the central pillar of the Northern Regime, Tecpan, and this is the western pillar, Huspai.” His fingers traced another line from one ocean to another. “These are the cities of the Northern Bastion of the Heartlands. Zimapan is a small town on the Eastern Ocean, Tecpan in the center and Becal on the Western Ocean. In the Northern Regime there are three cities and eleven towns. In the lands south of the Northern Regime, two hundred cities, a thousand towns, villages...too many to count. In the Heart itself, Lord Denethon...a thousand cities, five thousand towns and numberless villages.”

Denethon blinked. He knew the God-King’s lands were filled with people. But he never imagined anything like this...

“Yes, it is true,” the priest told him. “Long ago the God-King commanded that any outsider who learned even the least thing about his lands should be killed. When ships come to his lands, they are permitted to go certain places, where only the most trusted men of the God-King live. Even so, if a man from a ship should talk to even one man alone, they both die. If the man could have communicated to his ship, the ship dies.”

Denethon swallowed, trying not to be ill. There were as many people in the God-King’s northern regions as in the all the Great Kingdoms, included Zarthan. The Heartland must be unimaginable.

“How do you feed all those people?” Denethon asked, trying to clear his mind, focusing on the simplest thing he could think of.

“You are from central Zarthan. Even there the weather is pleasant enough to allow many towns to plant two crops a year. In the God-King’s lands we plant three crops a year. And of course, there’s the God-King’s Golden Blessing. You have never seen it. It is a special grain we grow in the heartlands. Five tons an acre, three times a year.”

Or, Denethon thought, three or four times what was harvested in most places in Zarthan, except the Central Valley of Xitki Quillan. There, the yield was double elsewhere, and they reliably had two crops a year. Xitki Quillan was the richest man in the Kingdom of Zarthan and probably richer than any man in the lands of the High King.

He looked at the map again. “If we try to go south, Hestophes would have an easy time cutting us off. I don’t know if he’ll pursue us west, but I’m sure if we try to go south, he will follow and attack.”

“So, what should we do?”

“Here,” Denethon put his finger on Tecpan. “We go here.”

“That should be safe,” the priest said, unable to keep some sarcasm from his voice.

“Not if the Northern Regime is restive. If that town falls or rebels, we’re dead men. We’ll have to face either weeks of desert or Hestophes. And if we get past Hestophes, we would face the High King.”

“We must break through to the south,” the priest told Denethon. “The God-King needs all his soldiers.”

Denethon put his hand on top of the Heartland. “There are a lot of people here. Millions. Surely, soldiers to match.”

“Ten million,” the priest said nodding. “But they guard the God-King’s Heart.”

“Ten million?” Denethon had thought himself beyond befuddlement. He’d been wrong.

“Yes, but they guard the God-King’s Heart. They could only be drawn upon in small numbers, for safe, simple tasks.”

Denethon kept his face a stony mask. Those were the men who kept the tens of millions of slaves and serfs in line, so that when the priests slaughtered some of the limitless slaves and serfs on a sacrifice day, none would dare to object or refuse to do their duty.

Someone called to them, “Lord Denethon! Another courier coming!”

“From which direction?” Denethon called.

“From the west, General!”

Denethon saw it in the high priest’s eyes. The soldier of the God-King had called to Denethon and not his priest. And when Oaxhan commanded, none dared call Denethon a general. Every day Denethon kept these men alive, they became more his soldiers and less the God-King’s.

Denethon spoke carefully. “Have you ever wondered how the High King commands the respect of so many?”

“You mean without sacrifices?” the priest said, knowing what others thought of their religion.

“Yes.”

“No. Even the God-King cannot fathom it. Fear, the God-King believes, is what binds men to their leaders.”

“Respect is what binds men to the High King. He offers to treat his people fairly. He offers to treat with all men fairly. He trades fair value given for fair value received. His men stand firm in battle, where the God-King’s men turn and run. Do you know what our soldiers needed to do to be safe at Three Hills?”

“Against a million rounds of case shot? I might not be a general, but I know there is no safety against that!”

“But there is, you see!” Denethon told him. “You see the cannon belch fire and you fall on your face and wait until the storm passes.”

“Men still die!”

“Yes, but it’s one man in a thousand, not one man in ten. The God-King’s soldiers are as brave as any, but they aren’t trained in fireseed weapons. Not really. Oaxhan refused any advice I had to give him.”

The priest cursed the man’s name, and then cursed himself. “I knew that and I laughed at you, as did the others! You were a stupid Zarthani! We’ve fought fireseed weapons for more than a hundred years! We know how to deal with them!”

“But not as an army,” Denethon told him.

A few feet away the messenger dismounted. “At least, another horse for dinner tonight,” the priest murmured.

Denethon shook his head. “I don’t think so. If we had another to give him, perhaps, but we don’t.

The messenger bowed to the priest. “Lord, I come from Tecpan with an urgent message for General Oaxhan.”

“Oaxhan is dead, I cut out his living heart myself. General Denethon commands us.”

The messenger’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Captain-General Thanos has taken command of the forces at Tecpan. He reports that the same army that occupied Xipototec has pursued him. He was planning on bringing them to battle. General Thanos has eighty thousand men, plus twenty thousand more in the garrison at Tecpan.”

“And what are your orders, besides telling us?” Denethon asked.

“I did not expect to find you so far west. General Thanos was sure that the God-King was in Xiphlon now.”

Denethon shook his head. “The God-King is in Zimapan. The last news we had was that remnants of his army held Zacateca, but the High King has probably destroyed them by now. Hestophes smashed Oaxhan. These are the survivors.”

The messenger ran his eyes over the camp. “This is all?”

“Yes. As comes as no surprise,” the high priest reported, “the High King is a fell warrior. Hestophes is his ablest pupil.”

“You will not be able to continue east,” Denethon told the messenger. “We are closely pursued by Hestophes even now. If you are careful with your water, you can cut south and reach the Big River, then continue further south until you get beyond the High King’s advance.”

“I will need a fresh horse,” the man said.

Denethon smiled. “If you don’t keep a close watch on your horse, your horse’s fate will be the same as all those other horses that came with us: he’ll be in a stew pot by nightfall.”

Denethon waved to a fire a few feet away. “We can give you a little to eat. Sorry, we can spare no food beyond that or more than a canteen of water. Eat, while I prepare a dispatch for the God-King.”

IV

Gamelin looked at the odd hat that Lady Judy had made for him by weaving river reeds. It was round, a flat brim and a tall round place his head fit under. It didn’t look like much, but she’d told him it would keep the sun off his face and hopefully stop his recurring sunburns. He knew he had to do something about those because the further south they marched, the worse the burns were and the more they were affecting him.

Vosper hadn’t been any help. He’d asked the old sergeant to look after his helm for him, and Vosper had taken it and had then thrown it as hard as he could off a cliff.

The main part of the army was getting an early start, his rear guard had another half a palm width before they had to be on the road. He’d hated the idea of being rear guard when he’d first heard of it, but now not only didn’t he mind, he’d have objected if Lord Tuck wanted to change things.

Not only didn’t they have to be up and moving at first light, but when the lead element of the army stopped at night, it was much earlier than they would have normally, because it took a while for the elements in the column to reach the camp. What he was supposed to do was to stop as soon as Tuck called the halt and take up positions to prevent an enemy attack from the rear.

Then a short ride to the camp, then even more time to rest.

His musings were interrupted when a messenger appeared. “Officer’s call at dusk, Lord Gamelin!” Gamelin returned the man’s salute and then turned to Vosper.

“Do you think they’ll be okay tonight?”

“After last night? They alternate between smug and concerned. Two men dead in a night exercise! Tanda Havra makes most of them nervous. Her father? No one sees him come or go–yet he does. To gut a man, then string him up by his heels with his guts hanging in his face...”

“How many times have you threatened a man with death for firing without orders?”

“Many times. Once, long ago, I slapped a soldier who’d gone crazy with the butt of my rifle, and it killed him. But still...”

Gamelin sighed. Yes, the man was dead, as the High King’s Field Regulations provided. He had, after all, killed a brother soldier with his carelessness. There wasn’t a man in the army, even the women in the army, who didn’t know what had happened. There was little disapproval of the second death, only of the first.

“They will be fine. They are a little quiet. I told Trooper Arminthes that the next time he decided to improve on Lord Tuck’s plans without letting us know, he’d be hanging upside down, too.”

Unspoken of course, was that a bugle call in the dark wasn’t the order to commence fire. It was scary, yes. But it wasn’t the command to fire.

They walked the half mile to the main camp, calling to the pickets well in advance. Then they joined the other officers at Lord Tuck’s fire.

Lord Tuck was brisk. “Last night I ordered the Ruthani scouts going out to tell the others not to return, unless they’d seen some of the God-King’s soldiers. They all returned late this morning.

“Please, look at the map.”

Tuck sketched the ridgeline they were on, then where it joined another ahead of them. Then a deep valley they would have to cross, then another high ridge. On the other side of that ridge, perhaps fifty miles away, another of the God-King’s important towns in the north.

“The scouts report that from here to here,” he drew a line on the ridge across the valley, “fires twinkle on the slopes. Thousands of fires. They will try to get closer tonight, but the God-King’s scouts are good, so they will have to be careful.

“So, we have a choice.”

Captain Andromoth spoke. “A choice, Lord Tuck?”

Everyone laughed. Lord Tuck was famous for his choices.

Tuck smiled. “Well, yes, I suppose we can rule out a frontal assault on their prepared positions. That still leaves us with a few choices. We can bypass them to the north or south, and then if we bypass them, we can decide to attack them or not. Or, we can sit on this ridge three quarters of a day’s march from them and let them make some choices.”

Gamelin spoke up, more confident than usual. “Lord Tuck, if we wait, we can pick the ground. We can prepare our positions, both for the guns and the men. Perhaps we can even prepare a surprise or two!”

Tuck nodded and gestured at the logistos. “How many days are we from Xipototec and resupply? How many days rations do we have?”

“Lord, we brought many wagons. The feed has been adequate for the stock, and we haven’t had to use our own supplies. We are nine days from Xipototec. If we are not hotly pursued, we could send ahead for a supply column to meet us, perhaps three days from town. Call it six days, if we must.”

“And how many days rations do we have now?”

The man bobbed his head. “Sixteen on full rations, twenty-eight on half rations.”

Lord Tuck looked around his assembled officers. “Except men who’ve been on half rations a moon quarter, can’t do forced marches–they can barely march at all. After half a moon, they are no longer effective. They will be alive at the end of the march, but they won’t be able to fight. We will use half rations only if we must, and at the moment we learn there is no other choice.

“We cannot win a battle where we launch a full scale attack against them. We cannot win a battle unless they attack us when we hold good ground and are good and ready. However, we will not be able to wait for their attack indefinitely. I’m willing to spend a moon quarter waiting for them to move. Then we will fall back towards Xipototec and resupply.”

He gestured at Tanda Havra. “Lady Tanda, if you would, please take charge of finding us suitable ground. Tell your people that while they might not be the best fighting men in the High King’s army, they are the best scouts. Tell them to be careful.”

She too bobbed her head.

“So, tomorrow we will have an easy march up to where this road drops into the valley. Hopefully by then we’ll know where we want to fight them. Then we will make further plans and start making our preparations.”

He looked around. “Any comments?”

Gamelin saw Vertax nod to Tuck, and Tuck dip his chin the least bit in response.

Tuck spoke again, this time to the Mexicotál officers. “Right now your soldiers feel like they are ten feet tall and able to destroy any force of the God-King’s soldiers that comes against them. That is good. But the idea that they can attack the God-King’s soldiers in their lairs is dangerous. They can’t, and we as an army can’t.

“You have many of your own lieutenants now. You have done well, both you and your men! Very well! Still, it chafes that there are captains of Hostigos set above your lieutenants, that above them are other officers of Hostigos in command. You lieutenants, by now you should have learned that your job isn’t easy. It is complicated, and in truth, dangerous. The only way you will be able to do what you must in battle is to lead. Some of you will be killed, because unlike the God-King’s officers, the High King’s junior officers lead from in front of their men, as an example and inspiration to them.

“You must be the ones to tell your sergeants the truth of it, as by now those men will have learned their duties aren’t that simple either, nor are they safe. Your sergeants will have to speak to your men and reassure them that their sergeants and their lieutenants are learning as fast as they can, and that eventually, all of their officers will be Mexicotál–even if that time isn’t yet.

“They must learn to trust their own officers, their own sergeants, and they must trust themselves. Then it will not matter who commands them! Tell them that!”

Gamelin nodded in agreement. He’d seen the lights of the fires on the distant mountains. There were a lot of them; it was possible it was a trick to intimidate them, but he didn’t think so.

The meeting ending and the officers began to disperse. Tuck joined him and sat down, putting his feet up on a rock, trying to get comfortable. “A very spiffy hat, Gamelin,” Lord Tuck said, waving at what Lady Judy had made.

“Yes, sir. It keeps the sun off my face.”

Tuck nodded, but he looked a little distracted. “Lord Tuck, is there a problem?”

“Well, a little problem. Wear that hat in a battle and half the God-King’s soldiers are going to shoot at it, thinking you are someone special.”

Gamelin grimaced. He’d already seen what he’d just been told. You didn’t want to wear distinctive dress on a battlefield: people shot at you.

“It is a very elegant hat, Lieutenant. I think I will have Lady Judy show the Mexicotál how to make them. One for everyone, it’ll help keep the sun off, but make you just one of the crowd...they do look nice.”

Gamelin shrugged. It was a hat, nothing more. Yes, Lady Judy had made it for him, slightly modeled on Lord Tuck’s hat. Gamelin frowned. Lord Tuck wore his hat in battle. That didn’t seem like a rational thing to do... Still, the reeds were plentiful and it would give the soldiers something to do besides digging holes in the ground.

V

Freidal smiled at Alros and then climbed down from his horse, weary beyond words. Once the army had crossed the river, he and a party had ridden ahead quickly towards Baytown.

It hadn’t been an easy ride for any of them. He’d watched Lady Elspeth, but each day she was ready when everyone else was, and she rode with the others, as easily as any of them did.

It had been a minor embarrassment that it was Freidal himself that was the weakest of the party, and more than once Durel would command the halt in the middle of the afternoon so Freidal could rest.

But they were finally in Baytown.

“Freidal,” Alros said, when he swung down from his horse. She hugged him tightly for a few heartbeats, before letting go. “I’m so glad you are here and safe!”

“Alros, I am so glad to be here and safe!” Everyone in the party had laughed, but it really wasn’t that funny.

“You need a bath, brother. Then you need a meal...you are so thin!”

“I will make it a short bath, sister, because as much as I need a meal, we need to talk.”

She nodded. Then she turned from him and hugged Xitki Quillan, then one by one, bowed to those who’d ridden with Freidal–until she came to Lady Elspeth. She looked at the Hostigi woman critically. A woman that far advanced in pregnancy had no business on a horse. Much less riding as far as she had come, nearly a moon on the trail.

Lady Elspeth watched her calmly and confidently. “I imagine you’d like a bath, too, eh?” Alros said, trying to be friendly, to someone who was most likely a blood enemy.

“I’d like to wash, yes. If I were to relax in a tub, I’d still be snoring next moon.”

Alros inclined her head. “Please, take your ease, for as long as you like.”

Lady Elspeth shook her head. “I need to talk with you as well. Have you had news from the east?”

Alros nodded. “That and other news, yes.”

“Then, talk among yourselves as you wish. But send for me as soon as you can. The High King has many secrets, and Count Errock is a man with a few as well. Even such a person as myself, Lady Alros, has secrets. It’s advice, you understand? What you do with it is your choice. I have, a time or two, counseled your brother to be prudent, now I do the same for you. The advice is freely offered–it’s ignoring it that will cost you dear.”

Freidal appeared at his sister’s elbow. “Lady sister, as I’ve told you, wrestling words with Lady Elspeth is a skill that takes consummate mastery. I’m curious myself, to hear what Lady Elspeth has to say.”

“Then, rest ye travelers!” Alros told them. “We will gather in the family dining room in a palm width.” Alros turned to Lady Elspeth. “And we’ll send for you, I promise.”

Lady Elspeth nodded gravely.

Freidal rushed his bath, not daring to relax even the smallest amount. Tiki had clothes laid out for him, and he donned them quickly and all but trotted to the dining room.

Alros was sitting alone, sipping a mug of watered wine, staring at a map of their lands.

She smiled and he sat down next to her.

“Lady sister, words fail me, when it comes to telling you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for the Kingdom, for the family, and for me.”

She looked at him steadily. “So far, Freidal, no one has had much chance to think. Events have happened at such a rate, one after another, each a greater shock than the last, it’s as if everyone is dazed. I wasn’t dazed...I was angry. I settled with Styphon, there were a few who chose to stand with the demon-spawn False God’s men: I dealt with them too.

“Now, brother, you have come home to take your rightful crown.”

“Count Quillan has told me that you might like to keep it.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “You know me better than that, Freidal! I’d have been happier a peasant girl in a market town. I can do what I have to do, and I’ll admit to being able to do it well. I had some good teachers–the same ones as you. But like it? Want it? No! A thousand times, no!”

“What do you want? I owe you virtually anything you wish, for what you’ve done for the Kingdom and the family. And for me.”

“I want what was promised to me by our father, from both of our fathers. Count Quillan talked to our father and extracted a promise from him. There’s a man I want to marry, Freidal. If he’s still alive, that is. There is considerable doubt.”

Freidal blinked. “You have a lover?”

Alros choked with laughter. “Brother, have you looked at Lady Elspeth, recently? At her very large belly? If I looked like that, I would have been set aside without a second thought. Instead, I looked and sounded like a ruler and the less-than-valiant nobles who’d found reasons to stay safely behind went meekly along. Granted, I want to be a fine and wonderful mother, but only when the time is right.”

“But there is someone you want?” Freidal hadn’t heard a whisper of a rumor about his sister and anyone. No one had expected her to be betrothed for another year or two, and then for reasons of state.

“Yes, there is someone I want. And he wants me, just as much as I want him. He is, however, unsuitable, or so our father, the king, told me. He wasn’t a noble. So Xitki made him one and our father was not pleased at all. Count Quillan then suggested if my fiancé should do something incredibly noble and brave, why, he would have earned being ennobled and any other reward that could be offered. And, like all of you men, he was a silly fool, jumping at the chance. I’d have married him anyway, title or not.”

“Who is he?”

“He is General Denethon, the youngest man ever appointed to the rank by our father. Of course, the rank was so he could go east and be our father’s emissary with the Mexicotál God-King’s army as it marched on Xiphlon.”

Freidal wracked his brain, but couldn’t place the man. You’d think he’d have known of such a man!

Alros laughed at his expression. “He is far, far better known, brother, in the North! It was he who led the relief force from Echanistra that saved the fort at Shallios a year ago.”

That Freidal had heard about, but not much beyond that the Ruthani had besieged the fort and that a relief force had fought its way through, and afterwards, the Ruthani had retired from the siege.

“Captain Denethon was brought to Baytown, sorely wounded. I went to visit him, Xitki asked me to. We talked, Denethon and I.”

“And how goes the march on Xiphlon?” Freidal asked.

“That is one of the things we need to talk about. Freidal, they had no better luck than you and Xitki. In fact, Denethon was part of the vanguard, a quarter of a million men. I swear that the God-King sent a messenger, saying, on his honor, the earth had swallowed the entire vanguard up. Every last man! It seems that the commander of the vanguard, one Captain-General Oaxhan, sent a message that he was going to engage Hestophes at dawn and that he outnumbered Hestophes five to one and expected an easy victory.

“No one knows what happened in that battle, Freidal. Not even the God-King. Instead, the High King appeared in the vanguard’s rear, captured the fords that the God-King was advancing on with his million soldiers. The God-King also swears that if it’s any consolation, Hestophes and his army appear to have vanished as well.”

“If Hestophes broke an army five times his size, at the best his army is refitting and replenishing. More likely, having to reconstitute itself,” Freidal told her.

“Yes. And of course, there is our own private part of the war. The Mexicotál troops that marched south from Outpost stopped going south and turned west and fetched up at the sea. The God-King sent a fleet of ships up and took them off.

“The thing is our spies report that they took aboard less than a thousand men.”

“That’s not good,” Freidal told his sister. “They marched south with eight or nine thousand.”

“General Khoogra, who has been acting as my military advisor, says that it is his opinion that they tangled with the town the Hostigi took in the south. They were further south than the easiest route west. Our scouts, though, tend to vanish. We have no reliable reports from the area.”

“And never have had reports from there. Have General Khoogra recall any scouts that survive, and keep them close to South March Harbor. I think it’s certain that we’re going to need them later.”

Alros pulled a piece of parchment to her and wrote down a note.

“And how did the God-King do against the High King?”

Alros laughed. “General Khoogra says that if you read between the lines of the God-King’s report, he spent a day having his army hacked to bits, then a second day sacrificing most of the rest so he could make his escape. But Khoogra is concerned, because the God-King says that the High King has a quarter million of his finest soldiers under his command, in the field against the God-King.

“The God-King says that his army ‘gravely wounded’ the army of the High King. Oh, and that the God-King reconstituted the remainder of his army into ten divisions after the battle.”

“He lost nine men of ten?” Freidal sighed. It was terrible to contemplate the death of that many men, Mexicotál or not. But if they were truly dead, then maybe, just maybe, the Kingdom had a chance to survive. The question now was how badly had the High King been hurt in the battle?

“Yes and he’s retreating south, with the High King in pursuit. Moreover, the God-King says that some of the towns in what he calls the ‘Northern Regime’ have been ‘restive.’ I think he’s going to find he has his hands full at home for some time.”

Freidal took a deep breath, and then waved at Alros’ parchment. “Order the God-King’s daughter-in-law and the remaining children to leave. Get them on a ship by tomorrow at the latest.”

“At which point,” Alros told him, “I suspect the candor and completeness of the God-King’s reports will vanish. In fact, I think the latest reports, since the God-King got his army shot dead, are getting vague.”

“I know. But we don’t want to give them the least grounds for complaint.”

Alros nodded. She was silent for a moment, and then she spoke carefully. “Brother, earlier you and I were talking about my fiancé. The subject changed. Brother, promise me that if Denethon lives, we have your permission to marry.”

“And that’s all you ask for your very honorable service?”

“It’s enough for me. Denethon was promised something better than a barony. I would ask you to confirm that for him as well.”

“Sister, if that is what your heart desires, it is yours. And his. Is there any more news?”

“That isn’t enough?” Alros said sarcastically.

“More than enough!” he told her.

“Then, for now, it’s enough,” she told him. “Unless you’d like to hear harvest reports?”

“Soon–but not yet. Let’s call Count Quillan, your General Khoogra and bring them up to date.”

Alros rose. “I ordered everyone out of this part of the palace. It’ll take a finger width.”

The second meeting took much longer. During it General Khoogra got the surprise of his life when he heard Xitki Quillan confirm the promise made to Alros and Denethon, and Count Quillan got the surprise of his life when he heard that the High King with a quarter million soldiers had beaten the God-King.

“General Khoogra,” Count Quillan asked, “were there any other details about the battle, any explanation of how it went wrong for the God-King?”

“One of the Mexicotál officers who brought the report told me that he was told that the High King had fetched every artillery piece in his Kingdom and scraped the gutter for every man who could hold a rifle. They stood behind a river and slaughtered the God-King’s army. Evidently the Mexicotál made repeated charges, sure that they could carry the day. First, cavalry against case shot, then infantry against case shot, when there was no more cavalry. A thousand guns, the man told me, commanded by General Count Alkides, the demon gunner of the High King.”

For the first time Xitki Quillan frowned. “Alkides was supposed to be with Hestophes.”

There was silence in the room. “A mystery,” Xitki said at length. “Perhaps what we need to do is invite Lady Elspeth to join us.” Xitki looked Freidal in the eye. “You understand, don’t you, about her?”

“She doesn’t want the baby,” Freidal said sadly. “A baby set in her belly by violent rape. She may be my enemy, but by the Gods! If I had my hands around the neck of the man who did that deed, or one like him, I’d squeeze the life out of him!”

“As would all true men,” Xitki agreed. He turned to Alros. “I hope we do not offend, Lady Alros.”

“Men, Count Quillan, are by nature soft and emotional about such things. There is a Mexicotál torture I’ve heard of that suits me. A joint a day. A finger joint, a toe joint–until they are all gone. Then forearms and legs at the knee, upper arms, upper legs. I’ve heard the God-King’s priests can keep a man alive for two moons. Would that it could be made to last nine.”

Freidal grimaced. But Lady Elspeth was sent for, and she promptly appeared.

“So,” Elspeth said, as she walked over and sat down at the table, “what have you heard? How about the ruin of the God-King’s advance on Xiphlon? Have you heard about that?”

“Yes, and that the God-King lost a battle and is falling back.”

Lady Elspeth snorted. “Let me tell you some things. You would learn of them in due course. This time, though, I speak the words of the High King, not Count Errock.

“The High King has many secrets. One such secret is the small cannon you saw used to such effect on your army. Another is the idea of self-drawn wagons. Actually, many wagons pulled by one that is self-drawn.”

She waved at a fire in a hearth at one end of the dining room, a fire that served to dispel the faint chill of the early fall. “Do you know what happens when you heat water? That steam is given off?”

Xitki Quillan nodded. “Yes, we know about steam.”

“Steam can be set to work. It pushes against things, if you try to confine it.”

“Demons,” General Khoogra agreed, nodding, speaking confidently.

“Steam, general, steam!” Lady Elspeth corrected him. “It’s used to pull the wagons. The High King used such wagons to haul his army to Xiphlon and then beyond. Even now, he extends the steam wagon road beyond Xiphlon. Each wagon carries twenty of the High King’s soldiers. Each self-propelled train has a hundred wagons. Two thousand men at a time. Do you understand that self-propelled wagons aren’t horses? They don’t tire? That you can run them night and day, only stopping to add water for steam, and load fuel, coal in this instance. The wagons can also use wood to run, as well. Anything that burns hot.

“A steam wagon train, like the High King has made, travels the distance from Hostigos to Xiphlon in a moon quarter. The High King has many such trains, more than a hundred. He moved his army from Hostigos to Xiphlon in less than a moon, do you understand that?”

Xitki Quillan was pale, and General Khoogra would obviously have voted “No” if it wasn’t obvious that was what had happened.

“And not only men can be carried on the wagons. So, of course, can fireseed, food, cannon, horses, anything you can put in a wagon that’s forty feet long and eight feet wide.

“The High King told Captain-General Hestophes to skirmish ahead of his army against the vanguard of the God-King’s army. The High King had a very strange request to make of his captain-general. 

“Lie. 

“Each and every time someone would ask ‘How many men in your army, Captain-General?’ he would say, ‘Fifty thousand.’ Oops, King Freidal. It was a lie. There were nearly twice that many. And when asked how many guns, the answer was a hundred. Another lie–it was closer to a thousand, including some guns that were very, very large.

“General Oaxhan led his men into a trap, King Freidal. He lost nearly a hundred thousand men to case shot. Less than five hundred Hostigi were killed or wounded.”

Alros spoke up. “There was an officer of ours, a General Denethon, who was my father’s man with the God-King’s soldiers. Is there any word of his fate?”

Lady Elspeth looked at Alros for several heartbeats, and then smiled. “And his men? There were fifty of them, do you care about them?” Lady Elspeth asked.

“Of course,” Alros said, but she was blushing.

“The high priest of the God-King cut Captain-General Oaxhan’s living heart out and threw it into a latrine pit. The captain-general’s second in command expressed anger at that and the priest simply split him in half. General Denethon now commands the remainder. He can run, I understand, amazingly fast. Probably not as fast as the Ruthani, but faster than Captain-General Hestophes.”

“How do you know these things?” Xitki Quillan asked levelly.

Lady Elspeth grinned. “A good question! Another of the High King’s secrets! You’ve seen the answer yourself, flashing in the sun.”

“But you are here, in the heart of Zarthan,” Xitki replied. “And all of this you’re telling us about happened far to the east. Surely you would have told us sooner had you known.”

Lady Elspeth shook with laughter, and then had to spend a moment, taking a small sip of very well watered wine. “It’s a secret, Count Quillan. Please, understand, the High King doesn’t tell his secrets willy-nilly. There are signaling stations, all through the High King’s lands, stations that didn’t become active until the war started.

“And, since he was building all those other signal stations, he asked himself, ‘What harm could building a few in Zarthan be?’ So he built here as well. If I send a message between dawn and High Sun, the High King will read it before High Sun, the next day. And if he wants to tell me something, I hear it the next day as well.”

Freidal’s throat worked. They had been fools, absolute, utter fools! They had built their “Great Plan” in the sure belief that their enemies didn’t know about it and couldn’t do anything to counter it. But it hadn’t been true, not even a little. The High King had his own plans. And the worst part? Freidal was beginning to understand what the difference in planning was. It was the same as they had faced at Outpost.

The High King did not map out battle after battle–he mapped out what he would need to win battles. Troops, logistics, information. He planned on moving all of those around his kingdom, like most men moved their boots after they took them off. The Great Plan had been all but dead before the Hostigi first attacked. In a way, perhaps it had been a blessing...

Lady Elspeth, however, wasn’t finished.

“In addition to the rest, we’re still trying to get rapid communications set up with Lord Tuck, who’s rampaging through the God-King’s lands to the south. He defeated an army of twenty thousand sent against him, slaughtering them all, to the last man. Then another army, twice that size, saw what lay in wait for them, turned around and headed east. There, the God-King’s lands smolder with revolt, only contained by the most brutal methods. There is no doubt in the High King’s mind, in Count Errock’s mind, that if an army of the High King approaches a city of the God-King, the people will do as they did at Xipototec: rise against the God-King.

“The High King is marching towards those cities and so is Lord Tuck. Who knows, one day soon they may meet over the remains of the God-King’s last army.”

“It would do you ill,” General Khoogra said, his face tied up in a rictus of hate, “if you’re less than honest with us.”

Elspeth laughed. “I am the High King’s emissary to you, do you understand? I have two sergeants who can read the High King’s signals and who know little else. You could easily stretch out your hand and kill us; it would be simple! And then the High King would know you for what you truly are, and when he finishes with the God-King, he’ll come here. And treat you worse than you treated your priests of Styphon.”

“General Khoogra,” Xitki Quillan said calmly, “is a man who needs things spelled out for him, Lady Elspeth. As you so eloquently have spoken. Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“My guardian, Lord Tuck, has sent a message to the High King and while the return message hasn’t been delivered to Lord Tuck yet, it will be, soon enough. Lord Tuck has asked the High King to refer to the God-King and his people hereafter as the ‘God-King’s’ this or that. That the word ‘Mexicotál’ be reserved for those who have been freed of the God-King’s domination. That sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Who cares what we call them!” General Khoogra said, laughing.

King Freidal wasn’t laughing. “General, have the courtesy when you sit at Our table, in Our hall, not to speak unless you know Our mind.” The Royal to commoner usage was the equivalent to a polite slap in the face.

Freidal nodded at Xitki Quillan who at least wasn’t a total idiot.

“Lady Elspeth, we shall do as the High King and your Lord Tuck wish. You understand that the Kingdom of Zarthan has a very definite interest in what happens to the south of our realm?”

“Then you had better do two things: surrender quickly to the High King, and once you’ve done that, respect his laws. One thing the High King has promised, and he is famous for fulfilling that promise, is that he guarantees kings and the other nobles of a realm their lands. He guarantees that they may pass those titles and their lands down to their children. He has fought wars, King Freidal, for just that reason. Short little wars, mostly, where one side dies messily.

“Another thing the High King guarantees: rebel against him after you’ve given him your pledge of allegiance and you lose your land, your title...and most commonly, your life.”

Lady Elspeth yawned and stood up. “Sorry, not only do I eat for two, I sleep for two as well.”

She strode out, without waiting for dismissal.

VI

Judy had been resting, avoiding the worst of the afternoon heat. It wasn’t as though you escaped it, but for a while, at least, you weren’t thinking about it. Tazi shook her.

“Lady Judy, Lord Tuck has sent a message. An officer’s call.”

Judy nodded and sat up. Tazi, silently and without bidding, handed her a canteen. The water was hot and nearly unpalatable, but it was something anyway, against the fur in her mouth.

She scrambled to her feet and Hestius appeared. “My Lady, everything is quiet. A messenger arrived from the west, a short while ago.”

Judy nodded and walked out of the position they’d carved into the hillside. A dozen of the very rare trees on these mountains had been sacrificed to create a roof over a jumble of granite rocks. The roof kept off the worst of the sun, which was no small thing. The Hostigi who had been assigned here had taken to calling it “Tarr-Dombra.”

She stood for a moment on the observation parapet and looked out at the valley below. Tuck had assigned her and her “company” to one side of his position. To the north of her was a great canyon, huge slab-sided cliffs, nearly a thousand feet high. Directly to her front, a steep rocky slope, leading down to the valley. To her south, a small canyon, this one less than a hundred feet deep, and far narrower than the one to the north.

On the other side of the ravine the main force was dug in. Men spent the night in the fighting positions there, then, after dawn, marched back to their bivouac areas and slept as much as they could. In the late evening and the early morning, they would drill, but wouldn’t fire their rifles.

Across the valley were spires of smoke from the myriad cook fires of the God-King’s soldiers. Originally there had been sixty thousand of them, now rumor had it the number had halved–the rest needed to put down restive towns.

She turned to Hestius. “Ready?”

“Yes, my Lady!”

The two of them set off for the headquarters. By now Judy knew how Tuck worked: the messenger to bring her to the meeting would have left first, and the rest would be timed so that she and Hestius weren’t late.

Tuck was standing with Captain Andromoth and Gamelin, with Tanda Havra and Lion not far away. He waved Judy to a rock and she sat with alacrity. So, she’d been last after all!

“I was considering something clever,” Tuck began, “but Tanda persuaded me that now is not the time for clever. I’m not going to explain how it is we know what we know, but suffice it to say, the most recent message from Count Errock is enough to set the army cheering.

“However, first I must report that the column of the God-King’s soldiers that left Outpost did not go west at the first opportunity. Instead, day before yesterday at dawn, some six thousand men attacked Xipototec.”

There were gasps and the Mexicotál officers looked concerned.

“However, in general, the news is good. Lieutenant Stormos reports that the guns were loaded with case shot, and they checked the God-King’s soldiers long enough for the watch companies to turn out. More than four thousand of the God-King’s men died. They never got closer than pistol shot to the walls.”

There was a concerted sigh of relief. “Regrettably, Captain Mnestreus was killed, one of about a hundred killed or wounded. Lieutenant Stormos has assumed command. I am pleased to say that he’s appointed a Mexicotál lieutenant as his deputy.

“My first thought was to detach Captain Andromoth to return to Xipototec. When I asked him his thoughts on the matter, he was rude.”

There were smiles. The officers had long since learned that if you agreed with Tuck, there was no harm in laughing at his jokes. The reverse, though, wasn’t true.

“I then considered Lieutenant Gamelin. I decided, why bother to ask?” This time there was more laughter, plus glances at Judy as well as Gamelin.

“So, for the time being, I’m leaving Lieutenant Stormos in command. Galzar knows, every young officer dreams of an opportunity like this.”

This time, there was no laughter.

“On the other hand, the High King has reported to Count Errock that the vanguard of the God-King’s army, a quarter million strong, was destroyed by Captain-General Hestophes. Three days later, in a two-day battle, the High King himself smashed the God-King’s army in a huge battle, where nearly a million men died. Hestophes let one man in three escape, the High King killed nine out of ten of the God-King’s soldiers.”

There were small rustles, but no one spoke. “Now, the High King is off in pursuit of the God-King. I have no idea how far the High King will go in pursuit, but if I was the God-King, I’d be aiming for the Winter Kingdom.”

Still no smiles, just nervous whispers.

“So, off that way,” Tuck waved to the east, “is the God-King and at least a hundred thousand men, probably headed south. Odds are he’ll call for help. Let Xipototec be a warning: there are a lot of weapons out here, and I have no doubt the God-King means to use them. I have no idea who he’s expecting to arm...unruly peasants would be a really bad choice.”

Vertax stood up. “Lord Tuck, surely you know.”

Tuck looked surprised. “Surely I know what?”

“Who those guns were for.”

“I assume, soldiers. But what soldiers?”

Vertax shook his head. “I sent reports, I told them, Lord Tuck! I told them!”

“Told them what, Captain Vertax?” Tuck was trying to be patient.

“I told them about the God-King’s Heartlands. Lord Tuck, there are ten million soldiers there.”

Tuck swallowed. “That’s a lot of soldiers! Are you sure?”

“Yes, Lord Tuck! In the Heartland of the God-King, a town like Xipototec is a village! There are thousands of villages and more than a thousand towns. Some of the towns, Lord Tuck, have more people in them than in all of Zarthan. If the High King goes very far south, he will vanish. I don’t care how many men he has, how many guns he has, how good a fighter he is. They will swarm over him and pick the bones clean.”

Tuck stared at Vertax for a few heartbeats, then turned his back on everyone, looking out over the valley beyond them. He stood there, his hands clasped behind his back for a very long time. Ten minutes, Judy thought. A finger or so on a candle, at any rate.

Then turned turned back to his officers, looking composed. “We have rations to stay here another moon quarter. We will depart west on the morning of the sixth day from now. I want you to post double lookouts from now until then. Tanda, your scouts are going to be in very great danger.

“The God-King is going to be looking for a victory. Odds are, he’d like to beat the High King, but that’s not looking real good right now. When Hestophes beat the vanguard of the God-King’s army, about eighty thousand or so of them escaped, heading west. They were, I’m told, moving very rapidly. The last word is nearly a moon ago. Not only that, the God-King gave command of those troops to a Zarthani. I suspect that means they are well led.

“We must be very, very careful from here on out, until we learn more about what’s going on. There are some very large armies out there, right now. And we’re a mosquito. We can fight and hold our own, but it’ll be expensive. I don’t want to buy an expensive victory. This is good ground, but not if we have armies coming at us from the north and the south, as well as the east.

“Now, go and tell your people about the victories. Caution them that no matter how good it looks, it will only take a moment’s inattention, a single mistake and we could be in real trouble. Double the guards. We will do what we can to increase the scouting across the valley.”

The meeting broke up, and Tuck waved for Judy to come and talk. She stood carefully, trying to look wide-awake and alert. Odd, how a finger width before she’d been dopey from waking up in the heat, but she wasn’t now.

“Judy, you and yours out there on that rock. You’re going to have to keep a sharp eye out over here,” Tuck said without preamble. “If they come at us hard, we may end up having to pull back rapidly. When that happens, you’re going to have to be ready to go, right then, because if you’re slow, they’ll cut you off. I’ll send word to you, but shit happens, you understand?”

“I understand, Tuck.”

“I can feel it in my bones, Judy. Tomorrow, or the next day, maybe the day after, they’re going to hit us as hard as they can. They desperately need a victory to bolster the God-King and we have to be their best shot at that. So be careful!”

Judy smiled. “Do you know what the Hostigi company you sent to ‘help’ us calls our position?”

“Tarr-Dombra,” Tuck answered.

“Yes. Not because it looks like a fortified castle, but because it is going to be hard to take.”

She saw he was angry. “Judy, listen to me: when it comes time, scoot! If you stay there, every last one of you will be killed. If not in the battle, at the next Sacrifice Day. Don’t be heroic! Be ready to run fast! You have more than thirty Mexicotál kids and sixty Hostigi mounted infantry. Custer had three times that many, and a quarter of the enemies you face. Run, do you understand?”

“Yes, Tuck. Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m not eager to die, and I’m surely not eager to have one of my people die, whether I make a mistake or not. They call the position Tarr-Dombra, Tuck, because they are proud men and women, and the name gives them more pride. Nothing more.”

“Good, now get going, and make sure to double the sentries the next few nights.”

Judy walked off, her back stiff. Tuck had his ideas about honor, and she had hers. Gamelin had his ideas, even Tanda Havra and Tazi had ideas. She knew full well Tazi would hold a position until the God-King’s soldiers swarmed over it, so long as she thought she might kill one more. Hestius would stand next to Tazi, come what may.

But she herself had other things in her mind than battles, duty and honor. Sure, it would be nice. But so would be raising Gamelin’s children. Their children. She wasn’t going to throw that away on a whim!

She looked at Hestius who looked steadily back at her. “Make sure the guards are doubled. Not only that, add a few more. I want some eyes on Tuck’s position all the time. Put a couple of men at the base of causeway, just a listening post.”

“Yes, Lady Judy.”

It wasn’t really a causeway, it was just the ridge top. The ridge was a sheer cliff on one side, and sloped steeply on the other. There was a six foot wide path down the middle though, that they’d taken some time clearing and smoothing. Sort of like a causeway.

That night, when darkness came, she stared at the fires across the valley, twinkling in the distance. How had she ever thought they were pretty? They were the malevolent droppings of fiends from hell that waited there.


	28. The Elephant Up Close

I

Judy felt a boot kick her foot. She grimaced as she sat up. “Tanda Havra,” she said softly. She couldn’t see the woman in the darkness, but knew who it had to be. It was pitch black, the middle of the night. No light was allowed to show from their position after dark. The guards had been commanded to report light the same way they would an intruder.

“My father is outside. He and I are going scouting before first light. Two of our scouts did not return at midnight, as they should. Both were here in the north. Please, wake Tazi and have her escort us through your pickets.”

“I am awake, elder sister,” Tazi spoke from a few feet away.

“Tazi, you need never refer to me as your elder again,” Tanda told her. “We are the same, you and I.”

Tazi laughed. “Sure, elder sister. Sure. Come, I will escort you past the guards. I remember once when you wouldn’t have bothered.”

Judy couldn’t see Tanda in the dark, but she could almost see Tanda’s smile. “My father and I have spent many days teaching your soldiers, Tazi! I’d like to think that teaching wasn’t wasted!”

“I don’t suppose you could take this outside?” Hestius said from the dark, very close to where Tazi’s voice had come from. “So the rest of us can return to sleep?”

“Of course, senior sergeant!” Tazi said, “At once, senior sergeant!” There was a rustle of a blanket, and then the sound of Tazi checking her weapons. Then a fading set of footsteps.

Judy smiled slightly. She didn’t know what Tuck would say about her letting Tazi and Hestius sleep together. But that was all it was, sleeping together. They were in the midst of a room with ninety others sleeping just a few feet away.

She contemplated a trip to the latrine pit and decided against it. It was easily the oddest latrine in the Hostigi army -- it hung over a thousand foot drop! The truth be known, even though no one had fallen through, she was terrified about stumbling around in the dark and being the first to make the mistake.

She settled down in her blankets, willing herself to sleep. She’d nearly achieved her goal when a rifle banged a few hundred yards away, directly to the front of the bunker everyone called Tarr-Dombra.

She was up in an instant, peering into the darkness. Two more rifles fired, downhill, she thought. Judy cursed the darkness as Hestius appeared at her elbow. A heartbeat later, the very junior Hostigi ensign, a boy of seventeen, joined them. “Ensign,” Judy said, “turn everyone to.”

She saw it clearly, as she turned back. A thousand flashes of fire. “Down!” she screamed and there were the sounds of half a dozen people hitting the rock of the bunker floor.

Not many bullets entered the bunker, but one of them ricocheted around the chamber.

Judy cautiously peeped over the top of the parapet, but the night was black once again. Off in the distance, she heard whistles from the main camp, calling men to arms.

Fine and wonderful, she thought. Except here we are. That was a lot of rifles that just fired a volley. A lot. And she had no idea where the heck they were. Downhill. Obviously on the ridge, coming towards them. How had that many soldiers gotten so close? She had pickets further down the ridge than where the firing had come from.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the moment. She contemplated things. There was no moon and a high overcast. In other words, the night was pitch black. Who wanted to give the order to retreat in a hurry, down an irregular causeway, six feet wide in the dark?

She felt a movement beside her and Hestius spoke. “Lady Judy, the men are now spread along the parapet, kneeling. They can rise and fire on command.”

His voice was odd, like he had a cold. He hadn’t had a cold a moment ago when Tazi...

Judy felt an awful tremor down her spine as she looked into the darkness. Tazi, Tanda and Lion were out there! Three shots! That had been them! They had deliberately fired, Judy was sure, so that the rest of them would know that trouble was coming.

There was a pop and a flare round went off, about two hundred yards to her front, about a quarter mile off the ground. “Up!” she commanded instantly.

“All fire, one volley and down!”

Ninety rifles crashed. No one needed to be told targets, there were hundreds of them advancing towards the bunker.

And just as suddenly, there was the crash of many rifles, only this time to their rear. Judy had crouched down in expectation of a return volley, which hadn’t yet materialized. “Hestius, I need to know what’s going on behind us,” she told the now dimly visible sergeant next to her.

“I know. I...” his voice faltered, “I’ll not fail you, Lady Judy! Galzar be my witness! I’ve failed before, but not this time!”

He was up and moving. A volley came from the God-King’s soldiers. She grinned, remembering what Tuck had told her. It was very hard to march and load. Heaven knew, they hadn’t taught it to their Mexicotál! “Up, fire and down!” she commanded again. Most of them were reloaded and did as ordered.

An instant later a single rifle fired and a Hostigi sergeant bellowed in the faint light inside the bunker. “If the Lady Judy had wanted you to fire, she’d have told you! Only on command!”

One of the Mexicotál corporals, a girl, Judy thought, said something a little longer. A tremulous voice said, “Yes, Sergeant!”

Judy could only grin. Another volley of fire from outside, followed by one in their rear. Now that, Judy thought, was going to be a real problem. As if to confirm that, Hestius sank down next to her.

“Lady Judy, there are about sixty of them behind us, most on the causeway, some at the base of the causeway, firing at the main camp.”

“Get some men, defend the back door,” Judy told him. She reached out and touched his arm, “Hestius, think about who is with Tazi. Lion: a man who’s killed his fair share of enemies, four-legged and two-legged. Tanda Havra. Yes, these men are coming at her from in front, but I think Lord Tuck has taught all of us, Tanda Havra included, a thing or two.”

“I will hold the rear, Lady Judy. You can count on me!”

Another flare lit the night, then the mortars started landing on the soldiers advancing towards Tarr-Dombra. They flinched and Judy ordered another volley. Another wave of the God-King’s troops started forward and more mortar rounds landed.

Judy grimaced. The mortar rounds were in really short supply. There couldn’t be very many left. And she was tolerably sure that the men attacking her position were out of case shot range as well.

The cannon from the God-King's main position spoke and Judy almost didn’t move fast enough. A cannon ball could reach her soldiers and have energy left over besides. “Hug the wall!” she screamed. The ball was nearly spent, and ended up rolling noisily across the bunker floor, doing no damage.

More guns fired from Tuck’s position, aiming lower down the ridge. At least, Judy thought, there was no lack of powder and shot for those guns!

Another volley, this time ragged, came from the God-King’s soldiers.

“Up! Fire! Down!” Judy commanded.

Her people started firing, and there was a quick volley from the other side. One of her men screamed and fell. Everyone else was down. Tricky bastards, Judy thought sourly.

Zokala reached her side. “Lady Judy, what do you wish from our people?”

“I’m going to want only three people to rise when I command ‘Up’. One of yours, two of the Hostigi. They are to fire and duck back down, very quickly. A few heartbeats later I’ll command ‘Left’ and that will be the new command to volley.”

“Why not use ‘left’ for the first?” Zokala asked.

Another volley came from outside. “Because I said so,” Judy said roughly. “Because they can hear me and are keying on the word. Go!”

Judy contemplated looking out, but it was dark again, the last flare had burned out. There was a steady cannonade now from Tuck’s position, and Judy was pretty sure some of that was hitting behind her. There was certainly a growing number of rifle shots from back there too. Probably, she thought, Tuck and Gamelin trying to get through the blocking force.

There was a burst of flame, below Tuck’s position. At first Judy wasn’t sure what it was, but she realized it was simply a fire, lit on the rocks. She furrowed her brow. Was it some sort of signal?

She glanced at the sky again, and was back down a heartbeat later. Another volley and she called “Up!” and three people fired, and two hundred of the God-King’s rifles fired in reply. “Left!” she called, hoping that everyone at least remembered the general direction of the enemy.

The volley wasn’t crashing thunder, it was a little longer. She counted to six and poked her head up again. Oh!

The fire was providing enough light to faintly make out their attackers. That was the good news -- the bad news was that for now, their enemies were hunkered down and firing from cover.

Judy grinned. “Pass the word: from now on, ‘Up’ means three men fire, ‘left’ means everyone fires. I’m going to mix them up!”

It would, she thought, work a few times, then they’d simply split the men evenly and it wouldn’t work. Did the God-King’s soldiers count to four? She called for Zokala, who returned at once.

“How many different volleys can the God-King’s soldier’s fire? Two? Three? Four?”

“They are used to firing one. Two, I think. Two is all. My father would know better.”

“He is, like Lord Tuck, elsewhere,” Judy told her.

There hadn’t been any firing at all for a finger width, and Judy popped up her head. There was no movement that she could see, none.

She sank back down, wondering what to do next.

There was a hiss from outside the firing slit, and Tanda Havra spoke “Three coming in!”

Judy passed the word. It was impossible to see them, the only way she knew they were actually coming in was the faint rustle of movement. It wouldn’t have been audible two steps further away.

Judy gripped Tazi’s arm. “Your husband-to-be is defending our rear, Lady Tazi,” she told the young woman. Tazi grinned and moved quickly across the room.

In the meantime, Tanda was tending to Lion, who sat stolidly, as she tied a bandage around his arm. Judy knelt close and Tanda shrugged. “There were a great many. We shot their commander and his second-in-command. I think there is someone else out there, who is in charge now.”

“And Lion?”

The old man sighed. “I am going to be left-handed for a while, Lady Judy. This will not be a problem as long as my wives and daughters remain faithful, willing to lend a hand.”

Judy coughed.

“You old goat, it isn’t that bad. If it was, we’d have to take the arm,” Tanda told him.

“I thought you would, daughter. The bone is broken.”

“Cracked, not shattered. You will only have to rely on memories for a moon or two.”

He laughed. “Daughter! I can easily do that! I won’t even have to repeat!”

Tanda Havra turned to Judy. “They will attack at dawn. There are more than a thousand.”

“They are behind us as well, but Tuck is trying to break through.”

“I heard them talking, Lady Judy. At dawn, Lord Tuck is going to have other things to worry about than less than a hundred of us, off to one side. They said, forty thousand men will come up the mountain, as soon as the sun is in his eyes.”

Judy’s throat choked up. She didn’t know what else to do, so she started whispering the words, “From the walls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli, we fight our country’s battles in the air, on land and sea; first to fight for right and freedom, and to keep our honor clean; We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine.”

Tanda looked at her curiously. “What is that, Lady Judy? A prayer to your gods?”

Judy shook her head. “My brother is a soldier, a particular kind of soldier called a Marine. They have a very proud history, Tanda. A very proud history. This is the first verse of their battle song. I’m so sorry, so very sorry... it never seemed important to learn the rest.”

“What do the words mean, Lady Judy?”

So Judy explained the words. She was surprised when Tanda spoke them aloud, and Zokala passed them on to the Mexicotál with her.

“Your brother fights in the air?” Zokala asked, with hushed breath.

“Yes, where I am from, we fly. I haven’t flown, but my brother has, many times. We have many ships, many flying machines. Many weapons. We are the strongest people where we are from.”

There were murmurs around the bunker. Judy popped her head up. The fire was burning more brightly, brightly enough to see that the God-King’s soldiers were still down, not even firing harassing shots. Long enough to see broken hay bales in the fire.

Tuck was sacrificing the horses and guns, she thought, unless he won easily. And since the God-King’s soldiers were staying down, under cover, it was a waste.

A rifle fired and she felt the wind of a bullet’s passage as she ducked down.

Tanda looked at Judy. “When the sun comes up, it will be in our eyes as well. They will come then, all of them.”

Judy nodded. “Pass the word. It will be a lot easier to load without bayonets. But, when you can see the whites of their eyes, reload one last time, fix your bayonet, then fire. Then defend yourselves as best you can.”

There was silence in the bunker, and then Zokala started chanting, “Never again! Never again!” In moments everyone, even the Hostigi soldiers, were chanting the Mexicotál words.

Then, Zokala surprised Judy when she stood up on the parapet, and called out to their enemies. “I am Zokala of Xipototec! Men of the God-King, today you will die here! I promise it! I promise it!”

There were a dozen rifle shots in reply, but she was out of the way. “Soon,” Zokala said smugly, “the sun will be high enough for them to see my face... and their doom!”

II

Gamelin saw Tuck standing on the edge of the hillside, staring at the bulk of mountain that had come to be called Tarr-Dombra. For Gamelin, he was unable to stop the tears that streaked his face. “Lord Tuck, your orders for my company?” Gamelin so very much wanted to join the company attacking the soldiers cutting Lady Judy and her people off.

“The sun will over the horizon in a finger width, Lieutenant. They will attack out of the sun. Lady Judy is facing a diversionary attack, do you understand? We could slaughter an army much larger than the one we face, who tried to use the causeway to attack us. Not to mention, before we finished our cannonade, there wouldn’t be a causeway.”

And was, Gamelin knew, the reason why artillery wasn’t being used to try to clear the enemy soldiers on it. “I asked, Lord Tuck, where you wanted my company,” Gamelin told Tuck, trying to sound like the fate of Lady Judy was no more of a concern to him than it was to Lord Tuck.

“On the left, above the remnants of the fire. Be prepared to move east to plug a gap in the line, or west, if needs be, to put more pressure on those holding Lady Judy’s line of retreat.”

“Yes, Lord Tuck, as you command.”

He went to his company and gave the orders. There were angry murmurs, quickly hushed by the sergeants, from Vosper on down. They all wanted to rush to Lady Judy’s rescue, but Tuck was right. The attack against Tarr-Dombra was a diversion. A strong diversion, one that had to look fearsome.

He contemplated the rocks that Tarr-Dombra had been built among. Granite. The solidest, hardest rock there was. Judy and her people were dug in, very well dug in. He’d seen to it himself, as had Vosper and Lord Tuck. Everyone had had suggestions for Lady Judy. It had been, more or less, not really a joke, but not serious either. But most of the work hadn’t been that much, and since everyone had so much time on their hands there had been a lot of help, even though Lady Judy and her troops had done most of it.

“Lord Tuck,” Gamelin told Vosper a few heartbeats later, “thinks the main attack will come as soon as the sun is up.”

Vosper grinned. “They expect we will have the sun in our eyes.”

“And we won’t?” Gamelin asked.

“No, nor will they like why, either,” Vosper replied.

Gamelin had long since learned the proper way to find out what he wanted to know. “Sergeant, could you explain?”

The old sergeant laughed. “Surely. The Lord Tuck had us build small piles of wood, up and down the hill. They are all connected with trails of fireseed. All won’t burn on command, I’m sure, but enough. And that hillside is filled with sere spring and summer grass.”

Gamelin looked forward. It was true, he thought. There wasn’t much grass, but there was enough to burn. As if to fix the matter in his mind, he felt a puff of breeze, blowing from west to east, as it did most mornings.

There were bugles and hundreds of the God-King’s soldiers rose to attack Tarr-Dombra. And, as they rose, a thin volley of rifles knocked many of them down. They ignored the pinprick and kept on coming. There was another volley just before the God-King’s soldiers reached the bunker, then nothing but smoke and occasional rifle shots.

“Smoke!” Vosper said, bringing Gamelin’s attention back to his front. Lady Judy was in Galzar’s hands. Gamelin had his own duties this morning. He’d gain no praise failing in them, no matter what the reason!

“Prepare to open fire, mark your targets, but don’t shoot until Lord Tuck does,” Gamelin called, “then reload and fire at your best pace.”

It was going to be a really hot pace, he was sure. He turned to a young messenger. “Make sure the ammunition runners are ready. I want them going almost at once, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord!” the boy said, his eyes wide with pride.

There was a tremendous crash as the artillery opened fire as a solid wall. Gamelin grinned. Only a half dozen guns had fired to support Lady Judy, but it must have seemed like more, because they fired when they were ready. Those guns had long since been moved to fire at the main enemy, reloaded and were ready to go.

It was a long thirty heartbeats, then eight thousand rifles fired, in groups of two thousand, two heartbeats apart. Men appeared, coming round the corner of the hill, hoping to find an easier way up. Instead, they found Gamelin.

“On my command,” Gamelin yelled at the top of his lungs, “kill them! Fire!”

A hundred rifles spat fire and smoke. Even Gamelin was impressed, half the hundred men who’d been there an instant before were down. He could see them look up at the billows of fireseed smoke, look at the cliff at Gamelin’s front, and understand that this way was death, with no hope of victory. They turned and ran, without firing back.

He turned to look again at Tarr-Dombra. Men were dying there, guns banged and now and then one of the God-King’s soldiers advancing towards it would stagger and sprawl. They were, Gamelin thought, trying to get over the parapet into the bunker. That was going to be hard, because it was barely tall enough for a man to slide in sideways.

The morning wore on and the artillery never stopped firing, the rifles never stopped firing, but in Gamelin’s position was the world quiet. It seemed like each passing moment brought him closer and closer to the breaking point, where he would scream, curse his king, his father, his count, his duty and rush to Lady Judy’s side, no matter what the cost to him.

Out of the smoke, he saw Tuck walking towards him. Gamelin drew himself up. “Lord Tuck?”

“Fleas bother me, Lieutenant,” Tuck waved at the causeway. “Rid me of them. Preferably, kill them.”

“Yes, Lord!”

An instant later his company was in headlong motion, running the half mile to the base of the causeway. A Hostigi sergeant, his shirt soaked with blood, rose. “Lieutenant, they’re dug in solidly. Lord Tuck said I wasn’t to risk my command.”

“And I’m here to kill fleas,” Gamelin told him.

Ahead, gunfire still echoed from the bunker, but the shots were infrequent. Soldiers, a few, still moved to attack it.

“Sling rifles!” Gamelin called. His men all stared at him in shock. “Sling rifles, draw sabers!”

A few heartbeats later they charged. There were, he figured later, less than thirty men who opposed him. His company sabered the last of them a fraction of a finger width after his attack began. Bloody and winded, he drew his men up, fixed bayonets, and calling the High King’s name and Lord Tuck’s name, as they advanced. A ragged Hestius waved them on, then turned, and as one, they all plunged into the bunker.

Bodies littered the floor and men fought and died in the dimness there, out of sight of the sun. Gamelin’s company cut through the few of the God-King’s soldiers still living, until they reached the parapet. Then they rendered a volley, then another. After the second volley, there were no living enemies visible.

Then he turned to look. Maybe twenty men and girls from the original defenders still stood. They were easy to tell from his own men. His own men were sweaty and dusty, but the defenders were blackened from dirt and fireseed smoke. Gamelin grimaced. They all looked alike!

Lady Judy rose from a corner. “About time! What kept you?”

He rushed towards her, only to have her to back away. “Not so fast!” she told him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m not good, I’m okay. Maybe I’m okay. Someone hit my shoulder a good lick from behind.” He saw her left arm was hanging limp. “Where’s Hestius?”

“Around.” There was still a swirl of men, many of them peering out, waiting for another attack.

“Gamelin, Tazi’s dead. Please, I don’t want anything to happen to him. I don’t know how you do this, I don’t. But don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“I’ll take care of it. Where?”

Judy gestured towards a corner. The dead had been moved there. Holy Galzar! Who would have had time to move dead in a battle like this? But they were laid out, as carefully as could be. The wounded too!

He turned, to find Vosper at his side. “Hestius,” Gamelin said. “We have to tell him Tazi is dead.”

Vosper shook his head, and then he gripped his officer’s shoulder for a heartbeat. “Damn!” the old sergeant said. “Damn these bastards! Styphon and the God-King, heartless bastards! We were stupid, before the High King, fighting stupid useless wars! Now we know better! Gods! How do we teach bastards like these how stupid they are?”

“We kill them, if they can’t learn,” Gamelin said roughly. “We didn’t bring this war to them, they brought it to us. And now they will pay, in the full measure of their deeds!”

Vosper took two deep breaths, and then saluted Gamelin. “I ordered Hestius taken to the tents of the healers. He was shot in the shoulder. It’s shattered, I fear. His chances aren’t good.”

“Do what you must. I don’t think it would be honorable not to tell him.” He turned back to Lady Judy. “What should I tell the Lord Tuck about Tanda Havra? What should I say to Lieutenant Vertax about his daughter?”

“Tell them to send a lot of healers,” Judy said, staring him square in the eye. “Quickly!”

“I’m not sure that will satisfy him,” Gamelin said evenly.

“They were alive, but badly wounded the last time I saw them. Healers!”

Gamelin looked around the bunker again. There might have been twenty or so of Lady Judy’s people still standing, but all of them were bleeding, most from more than one wound.

He turned and ran.

III

The King of Zarthan stood at the head of the Presence Chamber, filled with the most important nobles and clergy of his realm. His sister was walking towards him, carrying a pillow in her hands, the crown resting on the pillow. Unusual for a woman, she had a sword wrapped around her waist.

She stopped a few feet from him and looked him in the eye. “Brother, I, your Sister and faithful steward, have fell news. Our Father has been murdered.”

“And what of those who did this evil deed?”

Freidal knew it was all theater; everyone in the hall knew the story. But at times like this, theater was important.

“They are dead, Brother. I saw to it personally. The men who did the deed, and the men who ordered it. And when I learned that the men who ordered it were Foul Styphon’s highest priests, I named them anathema, enemies of the realm. Those we caught were fired from the cannon of South Fort, and the rest we hunted down like curs, and dispatched without mercy when we caught them.”

“You have done well, Sister.”

“Brother, these were entrusted to my care, until you returned.”

She lifted the crown, still on its pillow.

The crown had been the source of considerable discussion. He would have preferred to have Alros put it on his head, but that would have carried some very bad symbolism. The same thing if he put it on himself. Once upon a time, it had been placed on the King’s head by the High Priest of Dralm, but the temples of Dralm had been destroyed by Styphon. Durel was here, but Dralm’s status hadn’t recovered as yet.

He could have had Xitki Quillan do it, but that wouldn’t have been good symbolism either. Or any of the other counts and priests; he wouldn’t hear of that.

He smiled at Alros. “A moment, Sister.”

Freidal turned to the assembled notables. “Count Quillan, the loyal friend of our Father and myself, please, if you would, attend me with your party.”

The men in the front rows marched forward, single file, but from each side. They formed a circle, starting with Xitki Quillan to Freidal’s left, running to Durel, on his right.

“Lady Alros, pass the crown to Durel, High Priest of Dralm.”

She did so and the priest took it.

“I say to each of you,” Freidal commanded. “Take the crown from the person on your left and pass it to the one on the right.”

It was done quickly, and then Xitki Quillan held the crown high over Freidal’s head. “For the people of Zarthan, we crown Freidal, King of Zarthan!”

The crown settled on his head, and he took the sword from Alros. The symbolism in that was simple: Alros had taken up the sword in defense of the realm, and in the name of her brother and her family. Now she returned it.

Freidal looked at the assembled notables and tried to keep all expression from his face. “Our army has met defeat in front of Outpost. The army of our allies, the God-King, was defeated there as well, and then nearly exterminated as they retreated.

“The God-King himself has lost more than a million soldiers in his attempt to take Xiphlon. The God-King’s forces retreat now, back towards his heartlands. Even now, the God-King’s northern areas rumble and seethe with revolt. As do the cities of Zarthan.

“As bad as that is, there are two further pieces of ill news. We have returned the God-King’s daughter-in-law and her two daughters to the God-King. Once they are safe, our alliance with the God-King will rest only on the God-King’s word. As has been pointed out, none of the parties of the original agreement have kept to it, and it could easily be said it is no longer in force. I have requested a confirmation of the treaty status from the God-King, the messenger timed to arrive after his daughter-in-law.

“That is merely more bad news. What I have to say next is possibly catastrophic. The High King is in daily communication with his emissary here. The High King reports that they have gained additional intelligence about the lands of the God-King’s heartland.

“The numbers are beyond believable. They are, frankly, hard to credit. On the other hand, whatever else he is, the High King is not known as a liar. He has been wrong perhaps, but not often.

“The High King says that more than two hundred million people live in the heartlands of the God-King and that the God-King commands ten million soldiers who guard that heartland.”

The room had been quiet before, now even the last few sounds vanished.

“As you may know, our regular army is four men of a hundred in the Kingdom. The reserves and levies bring that that to one in ten. By calling out everyone, something that’s never been done, we can field one man out of five.

“That works out to a standing army of eighty thousand men, reserves and levies can bring that to two hundred thousand men and by maximum effort we might put a half million men into the field, although likely less.

“With that many men, we would probably win against the God-King’s army that was sent against Xiphlon. But compared to what the God-King could field against us from his heartland?

“We think of the God-King’s soldiers as feathered barbarians, armed with bows and wearing little armor. Our own general Denethon reported that in one day, in just one day, the God-King equipped a million and a quarter men of his army with fireseed weapons, equipment, fireseed and shot.

“In short, the God-King has been preparing for a battle with all of us here in the north, not just the High King. Contemplate for a heartbeat what would have happened had we defeated the High King. A million of the God-King’s soldiers would be battle-tested and ready. They would have put down the most fearsome military leader ever, in all of the lands since our ancestors first came to these shores! Knowing nothing else beyond what our own eyes have seen, what the eyes of our generals have seen, can any doubt what would have happened then?”

The silence in the room was palpable, it was clear that many were simply unnerved by the thought. That wasn’t going to do; it wasn’t going to do at all.

“I am not a coward,” Freidal told the assembly, “but I am not a fool either.

“The High King will, I believe, hit the God-King as hard a blow as possible, but I seriously doubt if he will go very far south of what used to be the God-King's border. There are three of the God-King’s cities in the north, one of them is already in his hands. Another will fall in a few days. I’m fairly sure the High King will stop after he takes the third town.

“The God-King will lick his wounds, then. Perhaps he will come next spring, certainly the spring after next. But the God-King will surely come.

“Come where?” Freidal asked. “Come against the High King? Or against us? I tell you now that only a fool would believe it would be against the High King. Eventually, yes. But the God-King tried to smash his strongest enemy and failed. Now he will strike at his weakest. Us.

“We can probably stop a million men. I doubt if we can stop two million. They probably couldn’t conquer all of our lands in one fighting season, but surely they’d be here, in Baytown, before the winter rains set in. With the richest half of the Kingdom gone, we wouldn’t fare well the next year.”

“Perhaps the High King will help us,” someone said.

Freidal was mildly astonished. Xitki was supposed to ask that question in about a finger width! And it hadn’t been Xitki Quillan who’d spoken! Freidal craned to look. Count South March. The man who had the most to lose and who would lose it before anyone else.

“Perhaps,” Freidal told him, “it would be better if we offered to help the High King.”

The silence vanished, replaced with an excited buzz of conversation.

“What do you mean, King Freidal?” Xitki Quillan asked, picking up smoothly.

“We were afraid to lose our way of life, our way of doing things,” Freidal told them. “Now we face the certain destruction of all of that. Even if we somehow don’t lose, our way of life is going to be a consumed by a war that will last from now until either we are dead or the God-King is dead and his worship exterminated as we exterminated the priests of False Styphon. In order to survive, everyone will have to fight. Noble, citizen, serf and slave. Nobles and citizens have a stake in our society. If serfs and slaves don’t have a stake, and they won’t fight, at least, not for us. The High King has offered them a very attractive deal if they are willing to fight for him.

“We will hold a grand conclave of all the nobles of Zarthan. I will propose that we end slavery and serfdom. Slaves and serfs will be free to enter the army, and we will reward them as the High King does.

“We will send to the High King and offer to pay any indemnity he wishes from us if he will allow us to join him and make common cause against his enemy, the God-King.”

A single voice spoke up, tired and a bit labored.

“King Freidal, the High King has given me leave to speak for him on this,” Lady Elspeth said from near the back of the room. Her once strong and proud voice was much diminished by the nearness of her motherhood.

“The High King says in regards to an indemnity: you have paid in blood for your folly. For every soldier of the High King you killed, you paid a dozen lives in return. And if that Galzar-damned fool of a captain in his army had obeyed his orders, it would have been two dozen lives for each of the High King’s soldiers.

“The High King says that if you acknowledge him as the High King, under the same terms he’s offered other Kings and Great Kings, he will agree. You must end slavery and serfdom, all men and aye, all women, must be allowed to own property. All nobles would be confirmed with their current titles and lands, with a few exceptions.

“The exceptions come from some minor boundary adjustments. Currently the boundary between the High King’s lands and yours follows the Mud River. That will change, if you agree to the High King’s terms.

“Draw a line west from Outpost, to the mountains to the east of the Central Valley. The east side of those mountains. The High King will send surveyors, as shall you. The eastern edge of those mountains will be the new boundary between the kingdoms. The land acquired from that, with some exceptions, would be reserved to reward soldiers of the High King. Most of those, he expects will be former Mexicotál slaves and serfs.

“The new boundary would follow those mountains north to the ice.”

Freidal blinked. There was nothing there, but a few Ruthani in the north, who warred continually with Zarthan. True, there were a half dozen baronies in the south that were affected, but the word ‘sun-addled’ came to mind to describe those barons and their followers. Only one of them had any economic success at all and they sold soap.

“Anything else?” Freidal asked.

“Yes. East of where the Mud River runs to the sea, north to that line west from Outpost is land granted by the High King to his faithful allies, the Lost Ruthani. He wishes to reward them as well with more land in the west. To the bitter salt lake, then north to our southern boundary marker at the mountains.

“We would compensate your Count South March with the peninsula south of that, currently belonging to the God-King, but not occupied.”

“That’s all desert!” Freidal was stunned. Give up desert? Lose a half dozen barons and a few hundred or so of their followers? And that was it?

“The Lost Ruthani and the Mexicotál, King Freidal, are desert dwellers. The High King has some ideas on how to make the desert bloom; Count Errock has more. All of this in exchange for your vow of fealty and similar vows from your nobles and officers. Know that the High King executes nobles and officers who violate their oaths, from barons to kings.”

“We will deliberate on this,” Freidal told her. “But you can tell the High King, We are inclined to agree.”

“One moon, King Freidal,” Lady Elspeth cautioned. “Then the High King will make war on you, and he will not rest until you are thrown down. There will be no further offers of terms that would keep you and your nobles alive.”

She started to smile, but then frowned. “Now, I think, I need the attentions of a midwife.”

Half a dozen people rushed to ease her down, then helped carry her out.

“We have most of the nobles already here in Baytown,” Freidal mused. “I will send notice of a conclave, but the High King’s deadline means that most not in attendance now, won’t be then. A moon quarter from today, we will meet in conclave.

“I am King, but I wish to rule as the High King does: with the consent of my subjects. I will speak my mind at the conclave, but I will have just one vote.”

IV

The long column reached the edge of the mesa and a call went up for Legios. He made his way wearily forward, almost as tired as that day that seemed ages ago, when he had ridden for Brigadier Markos.

Captain Halkon waved ahead of them, westwards, across the flat. “A small town.” Legios looked out across the shimmering desert. There were forty or fifty buildings clustered together, hard to call it a village -- more like a large town out here.

“The captain-general wants to continue south along here.” Captain Halkon waved along the top of the mesa that seemed to stretch out into the distance. “However, we are getting low on fresh food. Take your men, ride down there and buy whatever you can, rejoin us after sundown.”

Legios wanted to roll his eyes. Down a six hundred foot hillside, and then a half dozen miles to the town. Palm widths spent haggling over chickens and dried corn, then another six or eight mile ride and then back up the mesa. In the dark. Then however further south the First Mounted had gotten during the day.

The captain sensed Legios’ hesitation and laughed. “Come, Lieutenant! You haven’t had foraging duty with us before, but it’s easy enough! Anyway, I hear all of you skirmish troopers have it down to a fine art! Anything that isn’t tied down vanishes! Particularly if she’s young and pretty!”

The half dozen men in the group laughed. Legios looked at the village again. “Yes, sir.”

“I doubt very much, Lieutenant, that there are very many of the God-King’s soldiers down there as this is still part of the High King’s realm. If the God-King’s soldiers had come this way, they’d have leveled the place.” The captain was now speaking to the last, but easily the most significant, of Legios’ concerns. Since he’d seen several villages that the God-King’s soldiers had gone through, he knew full well the horror the captain spoke of, and that horror hadn’t happened here.

Legios went and gave his troops the good news. Like him, they were not unduly pleased with the honor that had been afforded them.

Then Big Mortar spoke up. “If the town’s not seen the God-King’s soldiers, like as not there’s beer, lads! Maybe some wine, for those of us with finer tastes.” He hitched himself up, like a caricature of a nobleman. Everyone laughed, and the complaints diminished.

“Women!” Short Mortar said, his eyes lighting up. Even Legios laughed. They rode down the hill, a hundred and fifty of them. The wagons stayed up on the mesa, but his logistos sergeant had brought along two dozen horses, the better to carry the spoils of their gleanings.

The town was quiet, Legios thought, as they rode closer. He stopped a few hundred yards away. It was too quiet. He heard Big Mortar say something and the answering murmur as the word passed down the line. Weapons up. Legios grimaced. Damn few mortarmen carried rifles, most preferred a brace of pistols that could be tucked in their belts and that didn’t require twenty pounds of paraphernalia to load and shoot.

They rode into the quiet town then, eyes turning every which way. They came to the largest building in the place, a three story building of heavy adobe construction, built like a fortress, with a four foot, waist-high wall around it. It was to one side of the main plaza, with a fountain centered in the plaza. Nothing moved, no one was visible.

A man came out of the building, shading his eyes as they rode closer.

“Afternoon,” the man said, looking them over. “Dralm be praised! You are the High King’s men!”

“Yes, the First Mounted Rifles,” Legios informed him.

The man recoiled slightly, looking around, nervously.

Legios continued, “Captain-General Hestophes sent us to scout and to see if we might purchase some fresh food. Anything, be it livestock or fresh vegetables. We’ll pay for it with the High King’s gold.”

The man grinned. “Then you are doubly welcome, Captain! Come inside and take your ease!” 

“It’s lieutenant, sir.” Legios motioned to the Short Mortar. “Get the men inside the wall.”

The townsman shook his head. “No need, Captain, er, Lieutenant. It’ll be a mite crowded.”

“I will feel better,” Legios said. “I’m still new at this lieutenant stuff, and I don’t want to make a mistake.”

The other laughed. “Well, you’ll have to explain it to your men, crowding them cheek and jowl. Come inside, I’ll send a man to fetch the local merchants.”

“Where is everyone?”

The other grimaced. “There are rumors of God-King’s soldiers all over everywhere. Most of the kids and women folk are back in the hills, safe. A few of us are left here. We plan on scooting too, if we see the God-King’s soldiers coming.”

Legios thought that odd...they hadn’t seemed to have seen the Heavy Weapons Company coming. He waved the two Mortar brothers to come with him and the three of them strode into the inn.

“A beer, Lieutenant? For you and your sergeants?” the man who seemed to be the proprietor said.

If I was a good officer, Legios thought, I would never agree to any such thing while my men stood in the sun, baking. And why was the man behind the bar standing nervously, hands trembling, refusing to look at him?

“Certainly, sir. How much beer do you have?”

“Maybe three barrels, sir. Perhaps a bit more.”

“I’ll buy one of them for my men,” Legios told him pompously, his eyes still on the man behind the counter.

Someone else emerged from the shadows of the room. He was blonde and tall, like most of Legios’ men. Clear-eyed but a little nervous.

“I’ll see to that, Vicik,” the newcomer said. “These gentleman wish to buy supplies?”

“Yes. They are Captain-General Hestophes’ men. From the First Mounted Rifles, come to buy supplies.”

“Well then,” the new man said with good cheer, “you’ve come to the right place! I’ll send someone off to the general store in a moment. You understand, practically everything has been hidden away? It might take a bit to get it out?”

He turned and vanished out the back, but not before Short Mortar had said quietly, “Considering the number of God-King’s soldiers just east of here, only prudence.”

“Yes, there is that,” the man called Vicik said. “We are certainly glad to see the High King’s men here! And Hestophes! Now there’s a fighting man!”

“Yes,” Legios replied, waving back towards the mesa. “His main force should be just west of here by now. We’ll rejoin towards the rear and make the logistos’ day.”

The man behind the bar was pale, nearly white as a sheet, and his hands never stopped trembling. Something was wrong, Legios thought. Something was very wrong.

Vicik smiled. “Let me go see if I can at least find us a mug of beer, while we wait!”

He vanished too and Legios looked at Short, who looked back at him intently. “Assume,” he remembered the words the High King had spoken the afternoon he had come to lecture Legios’ class on tactics, “assume that the enemy that you face isn’t stupid. That they too wish to prevail. Assume that the enemy is sneaky, tricky and has considerable means.

“Never make a camp where you don’t consider what happens if you are attacked in it. Plan.

“When you are moving and there is an area ahead that hasn’t been adequately scouted or you are simply moving too fast for scouts, contemplate what you would do as a defender to harry your attackers. Then plan how you could frustrate that heroic defense.

“Do not ride out trembling in fear, assuming the enemy lurks under each leaf in the forest. However, turning over the occasional leaf to see what sort of slime is underneath -- that can save you, your soldiers, and the kingdom.”

That lecture had left an indelible impression on Legios. His eyes were on the man behind the bar, who saw his interest and promptly dropped a glass, glancing as he did towards the back, where the other two had vanished. Legios made up his mind and turned to Short. “Unload. Have two-thirds of those with rifles take up position upstairs. Everyone else downstairs. Post triple lookouts. Get the weapons ready to set up on the roof, as many as we can get up there. I want everyone inside or on the roof. Hasty defense.”

“Sir!” Short went outside, calling to the other sergeants.

“Big, I’d like to talk to that man,” Legios said quietly, indicating the barkeeper. Big, who wasn’t nearly as dumb as he pretended, not by a thousand times, moved quickly, jerking the hapless man over the bar and setting him down in front of Legios. Men started coming in the room from outside, questions being asked, sergeants moving to do what had to be done.

Legios smiled at the man, now nearly comatose. “What’s going on?”

The man shook his head, saying not a word, unable to meet Legios’ eyes.

Big reached out and touched the man’s shoulder. “The lieutenant asked you a question. Answer him.” The man shook his head again, vehemently. Big squeezed just a little bit and the man sank to his knees.

Legios was about to say something, but Big glanced his way and shook his head. Big turned back to the man on his knees. “Where is your family?” Big’s voice was anything but big, when he wanted it to be.

The man once more shook his head violently.

Big smiled, but it wasn’t something you’d like to see, especially in the circumstances. “When my brother and I were boys our parents were killed and our little brothers and sisters taken by the God-King’s soldiers. The God-King’s soldiers told my older brother that our parents would die if he didn’t do what they told him. They wanted us to betray others.” Big smiled broader. “Short killed two of them, wounded another and led me away to escape as well. Our family had been long dead. Long dead.” Big touched the barkeep’s shoulder, far more gently than you would think such a big man could do such a thing.

“If they took your family, they are dead already. Do you want their deaths to serve for nothing? Is it truly your desire to help those fiends from hell?”

“They took the women, the children, yesterday. We didn’t even know they were close.”

The man was close to breaking, Legios thought.

“How many?” Legios asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

“I couldn’t see; they wouldn’t let me out. They took them: Jana, the baby, and Alala! They can’t be dead! They can’t! They promised!”

Short was back. “I searched the place. There is a cellar, with a window in the back. Someone’s used it to leave in the last few heartbeats. They were in a bit of a hurry.”

One of the junior sergeants appeared. “Sir, Corporal Kilai’s respects. Heliograph signal from Captain Halkon. Two, three thousand of the God-King’s soldiers are approaching from the east.”

“And that’s all?” asked Short.

The corporal shrugged. “The captain sent that the army was riding to our support.” Obviously not believing it.

Short laughed. “If Captain Halkon says they are riding to our support, then they are riding to our support.”

Big rumbled, “And if anyone doubts that, have him come see me.”

Shortly, Legios and the two Mortar brothers stood atop the inn, looking out over the town. The roof was a good fighting position, thick walls, with narrow slots for rifles, and plenty of room for the mortars. Obviously this had been planned as a strong point in case the town was ever attacked.

“I still can’t see any dust,” one of the corporals said, looking around them.

“God-King’s soldiers on foot don’t throw up much,” Legios said.

The other gulped, looking east again.

Legios looked around their position in the inn. The roof was perhaps a hundred feet on a side and appeared quite solid.

“They are going to come from the east,” Legios said with more certainty than he felt. “Perhaps there are already a few snipers in town. I want most of the guns set to fire on the main plaza in front of the inn.”

Big looked at the town, at the low wall around the inn and nodded. “The outer wall isn’t any good. Anyone you put on it is a dead man. We can’t protect the horses.”

“Make sure everything is off the horses and inside, then kick the horses loose,” Legios commanded.

“You mean, out the gate?” Big asked.

“You want to share this place with two hundred dead horses?” Legios said. The sergeant shook his head. “Send them out. Maybe we can get some of them back later, but we won’t get any back if we keep them here. Not to mention the distraction.”

Big saluted and was running downstairs shouting orders. Legios waved around the roof talking now to Short. Only a dozen mortars were set up. “I want all of the tubes ready here. Keep the shells downstairs just yet, detail two dozen men to hump them up, once the fighting starts. We don’t want any accidents.”

“All of the tubes, Lieutenant?”

“Unless you think we can do any good shooting from windows.”

That was a stupid question, the sergeant thought. But not a stupid answer.

Half a palm width later a volley of rifle shots killed a man and wounded two others who were working on the roof. Legios’ men fired a few shots in reply, and everyone else buckled down, trying to keep safe. Over the next palm width the volume of rifle fire rose steadily and kept extending around the inn.

“We’re as ready as we can be,” Short finally said, standing with Legios in the stairway, just below roof level. “Things could be better, but we can work with it. Call it another palm width until dark.”

“Sometime in here, they are going to try an attack,” Legios told him. “They have to know how many we are. I suspect the men we met didn’t report as to exactly what sort of troops we were. With any kind of luck, we can surprise them.”

Short nodded, but Big was less sanguine. “What should we do about rate of fire? We only have twenty rounds per tube.” At five heartbeats per shot, a hundred heartbeats. Not even a skinny finger width. On the other hand, there were twenty tubes. You wouldn’t want to be in the impact area.

“They will probe, I think,” Legios decided, thinking about it. “The God-King’s soldiers like to probe. If they find a spot they think is weak, that is where they will attack in force later.”

“That damn little wall is worse than useless,” Short repeated. “When they get behind it they can get over it easily enough, so they can launch an attack with a very short lead time from practically any direction. We’re going to have a tough time holding them off, even once, if they come.”

What would the God-King’s soldiers do? Legios asked himself. That was how the captain-general had destroyed them in the big battle, without any help from the High King. It was how Brigadier Markos had done it, in the smaller battle the day before the First Mounted fought the main battle. Each had guessed what the God-King’s soldiers were going to do and then set a trap and the God-King’s soldiers had obligingly walked into it. The God-King’s soldiers were fond of probes and feints. What should he do here?

To the south was the gate to the inn. It was ten feet wide, and a large number of men could come through at once. They’d piled a few things in the way, but that would be easily brushed aside. Indeed, the wall itself was low enough for a man to vault over easily. It would delay someone crossing it only for a heartbeat or two. Not much.

“Put all of the rifles we have and three tubes to cover the gate and courtyard. They will probe there, trying to get our attention.” He pointed to the west, where there was a long, low building parallel to the inn. “They will come from that direction, they will knock a hole in the wall on the other side of the building, enter it and when it is time, come from either end.”

He looked at his sergeant. “How many firebombs do we have?”

“Eight, Lieutenant,” Short answered.

“Get three tubes set up for the firebombs. I want two shells from each tube, there, on that building.” He pointed at the building where he thought the attack would originate. “Another shell at each of those buildings,” he pointed in two other directions, at buildings almost as close. “There and there. I want those three buildings to burn.”

Short gave the order, and in less than a finger width, shells had hit all three and the fires were starting. The God-King’s soldiers only fired harassing fire at the walls, not really bothering to interfere.

“Now they know we have mortars,” Short observed, shaking his head.

“Now they know we have three mortars,” Legios contradicted him. “Twenty is likely to be a surprise.”

“And the purpose of this arson?” Short Mortar asked. The High King cast a very jaundiced eye on officers who burned down civilian property without an exceptional reason.

“Right now, any troops they have in those buildings are leaving. Later, they might come back, but the buildings will be roofless. Mortar meat.” The casual term mortarmen gave an enemy who could not fight back and who had no cover.

Big Mortar showed up. “Parley party, Lieutenant.” He waved at the outside. Being careful, Legios could see three men standing under a white flag, hanging limp in the late afternoon’s still air.

“I want Corporal Hollar,” Legios said, surprising the Mortar brothers.

A few minutes later the corporal was standing in front of Legios. “Corporal, I have heard you are the best man in the Heavy Weapons Company, when it comes to the High King’s favorite game, poker.”

The other nodded, cautious and unsure.

“Well, I ask that of you now. You will accompany me on the parley. You will say not a word, you will show no emotion on your face, unless I tell you directly what to do. Is that understood?”

The corporal shrugged and nodded. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

A few minutes later, Legios and the corporal stood facing three of the God King’s men. The tall one, with demonic eyes, spoke first. “I am Shurax! Priest of the God-King!”

Legios ignored him, nodding at one of the two men he’d recognized from the tavern. “Good even to you, sir. Vicik, I believe your name is.”

“We demand your surrender,” the priest interjected.

Legios looked at the man he’d spoken to earlier, ignoring the priest and said softly, “And your terms?”

“The God-King’s Mercy!” the priest replied haughtily, ignoring Legios’ attempt to ignore him. Legios wasn’t sure, and the two men he knew from the tavern didn’t blink, but they didn’t look happy.

“We are surrounded,” Legios said, recognizing the obvious. “However, there is not a man among us who doesn’t know what we will receive when you speak of the God-King’s Mercy.

“In order to kill us, you will have to attack. And that will lessen the God-King, because we will certainly kill some of you.”

One of the two men he’d met before growled, the one whose name Legios did not know. “We would be willing to offer Oath to Galzar.”

Legios looked him directly in the eye. “I am in heliographic communication with Captain-General Hestophes, who commands us. The terms would be known.”

The speaker looked around the hills. “You won’t be in communication much longer.”

Legios smiled. “So there is not much time for me to decide. Give me your word of honor, Oath to Galzar.”

There was an extended silence, and no one spoke. Legios nodded then at the one man who’d spoken. “My regards, sir. So, no, we choose not to surrender. You will have to come take us.”

Legios waved around. “However, what do you expect to achieve? Killing us?” He laughed sarcastically. “We’ll take some killing, a lot of your men will die, too. For what? We didn’t bring any supplies down here. We were expected to purchase some and take them back to the captain-general. Weapons?” Again Legios laughed. “Do you value a couple hundred pistols and a few rifles more than the hundred or two of your men who will die in the acquisition? And trust me, we will fire off all of our ammunition, you will have less of Styphon’s shit...” He stopped and smiled. “Ah, holy fireseed, afterwards. So really? Is it worth it?”

“You will die,” the priest repeated.

“And so may you, unless you find something large and heavy to hide behind,” Legios said contemptuously. “I’ve fought your people three times now, and I never have seen a priest in the front lines. Perhaps your men will finally tire of people like you leading them -- from well in the rear.”

“The God-King’s men never tire,” the priest rejoined.

“Of course,” Legios agreed. “Which is why you have won battle after battle, triumphing over your enemies.”

Around them, twilight had fallen, the sun was behind the mesa to the west. Vicik spoke. “Priest, he taunts you to delay the inevitable. If we are to do this, better to just do it.”

Short Mortar appeared, walking slowly from the gate, his hands held high. “Lieutenant, a message to you, personally, from the captain-general.”

Short handed Legios a piece of paper. Legios glanced at it and started. “Hold until relieved. First Mounted will arrive by midnight, the High King by dawn. Hestophes.”

Legios lifted his head. “Do you read, Vicik?”

The other man shrugged and then nodded. Legios handed the message to him. Short bristled, but Legios was calm. “Read it for the priest.”

The priest listened and then sniffed. “A ploy. It is dark, there can be no heliograph signals.”

Legios had seen the flickers, so he pointed. Everyone craned to look and saw the rapid flashing from the mesa, miles away. “That’s the captain-general’s idea, actually. You may have noticed he, too, is a clever man. Perhaps not as clever as the High King, but clever enough. He noticed how far you can see a candle on a dark night.

“So yes, the captain-general signals from the west and we reply. Over there,” Legios waved to the northeast, “the High King signals as well. That message isn’t for me, it is from the High King to his captain-general saying he too will be in position to attack by midnight.”

“Priest!” It was Vicik who spoke this time. “This man baits you! Every heartbeat we stand here is another heartbeat the noose closes around our necks! He baits you, draws your attention to himself. Do you know what that command, ‘hold until relieved’ means?”

The priest snorted, obviously unconvinced, unimpressed or both.

“The lieutenant has been ordered to sacrifice himself and his men to pin us here until the High King and Captain-General Hestophes are in place. That is what he is doing, priest! Talking us to death \-- our death, priest!”

“He will die too!” the priest screamed. “I will personally cut his heart out and feed it to the Living God!”

“I think, Vicik, that the priest does not understand duty to anything other than his gods.” Legios waved his finger under the priest’s nose in the most insulting fashion he could manage. “Do you understand, priest, that if you kill me, I will have killed you?” Legios nodded at Vicik. “That’s what your man is trying to tell you.”

The man whose name Legios still did not know laughed aloud. “Perhaps I am about to die, now -- maybe later. Come, Vicik, this is insane. This stupid priest will still be standing here on the street trading words with the lieutenant when the High King puts him in irons.” With that the two men turned and walked away.

The priest screamed to the closest God-King’s soldiers. “Kill these cowardly traitors!”

Vicik roared with laughter, calling out loudly. “The flashes on the hills. There is Hestophes, riding towards us.” He pointed first to the mesa, then the far distance. “There, the High King tells him he’ll join him by midnight. Here.” The God-King’s soldiers’ eyes swiveled to the hills, seeing the flashes there. “You bet your ass I’m running!”

The priest could hear as well as could Legios the sudden tattoo of feet heading away. The priest growled, pulled out his obsidian knife and stepped forward towards Legios, only to be brought up short by a dry, metallic click of a pistol being cocked.

The corporal grinned. “I broke the truce, too. Tough. Another step and you die.” The priest eyed the pistol pointed at his belly and without another word, turned and fled as well.

“I will, Corporal,” Legios said, his voice nervous, “overlook your disobedience of orders this time.” They both laughed.

Then the corporal handed a folded piece of paper to Legios. “The smart one, the one who doesn’t talk much, handed me this while the other was getting all of them going.”

Legios unfolded it and read it, then reread it. That man was pretty clever -- it was a good thing they hadn’t had to fight them.

“Corporal, get Big Mortar and a party of forty men, the most heavily armed we’ve got. And that bartender.”

A finger width later the men were assembled in the street, looking nervously in all directions. Legios looked at the barkeep, waving the note under his nose. “Those men were Zarthani, escorting one of their officers, come to ‘advise’ the God-King’s soldiers. The Zarthani officer doesn’t hold with a lot of things the God-King’s soldiers do. He bargained when they took this place. They didn’t do it the usual way the God-King’s soldiers did and saved a lot of God-King’s soldiers casualties. For that, the Zarthani demanded a big cut of the loot. In this case, they got the townspeople. They’re locked up in a cave or something. Do you know where that would be?”

The barkeeper blinked, nearly cried, and then started running down the street. They followed him, cautiously but fast. Soon there were dozens and dozens of people, dazed and shaken in the town, but when they realized they were safe, suddenly they looked more than a little grateful.


	29. Aftermath of Battle

I

Tanda opened her eyes to darkness. She listened cautiously, trying to understand what had happened to her. She remembered the big fight; she remembered standing over Lion, trying to keep more bayonets from his body. He’d been bayoneted twice by then, once in the leg, once in the same arm he’d been wounded in earlier. Something had happened to her, because she remembered nothing after that.

A few feet away a light kindled, and she saw one of the half dozen priests of Galzar who’d come with the column. He was bending over someone lying on the ground. The priest straightened and turned to a shape standing next to him.

Tanda was startled to see Lady Judy, looking more haggard then ever she could remember seeing a living person. “She is dead, my Lady,” the priest told the young woman.

Judy’s face turned to stone. “Gods, priest! How do I tell her father? Lord Tuck? Priest, help me, for I am lost!”

The priest reached out to her and gathered her to his chest, holding the girl while she sobbed.

Tanda found she could lever herself up on one arm. Both arms were actually working, but one was suffering pins and needles of cutoff circulation. Best thing for that, her brain told her, was to move around.

“Lady Judy,” she managed to croak.

The girl hesitated a fraction of second, then pushed away from the priest, looking dry-eyed and confident. “Tanda Havra, are you well?”

“No, I’m not well. My head throbs; my limbs move one way when I command them to move another. Where is my father, Lady Judy? Where is Lord Tuck?”

“Here, Tanda,” the gruff voice said.

She turned to face Tuck.

Tuck pretty much ignored Tanda, coming to stop in front of Lady Judy. “Report, Judy,” he said in English.

“I got my people massacred. Tazi’s dead, Zokala just died. Nearly seventy, Tuck, of eighty-five are dead.”

Tanda hid a small smile. Lady Judy had replied in Zarthani, not English. 

“My father, Lady Judy, what of him?” Tanda insisted.

A voice spoke from some feet away. “Trying to sleep, daughter! But there are too many here passing gas! Daughter, are you well?”

“Well enough, father.”

“Then hush and let an old man sleep.”

“Let’s go outside,” Tuck said quietly, “assuming any of you can walk.”

Tanda moved her legs. She could do it, but she wasn’t going to be running anywhere for a few days.

Judy, for her part, glared at Tuck. “I was hit in the shoulder; there’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

The priest of Galzar held the lantern high as they made their way across the floor of the bunker. The dead soldiers of the God-King stay lay curled in death as they had fallen, the Hostigi and Mexicotál casualties had been moved to one side and laid out with care, both the living and the dead.

In spite of years of training, years of hard living, Tanda bowed low to the rows of dead. Behind her, Tuck started speaking, his voice low and sad in Zarthani.

Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,  
that from the nunnery of thy  
chaste breast and quiet mind  
to war and arms I fly.  
True a new mistress now I chase,  
the first foe in the field,  
and with a stronger faith embrace  
a sword, a horse, a shield.  
Yet this inconstancy is such  
as you too shall adore,  
I could not love thee dear so much  
loved I not Honor more.

Obviously, Tanda thought, a poem from his home. Oh, what a poem! It had certainly sufficed to send Lady Judy back to tears; even the priest of Galzar had drawn himself up. “Galzar, Lord Tuck, could not have said it better!” the priest intoned. To her surprise, the priest repeated the words.

She grimaced. One more thing that Tuck had left behind to confuse travelers from Home Time Line!

They were outside, on a causeway splotched with blood. There were a lot of bodies lying at the bottom of the cliff. Xenos, the Paratime police sergeant appeared. “Tanda Havra! Are you well?”

She drew herself up. “The next person who asks gets shot! Well enough!”

He bowed. “Tanda Havra, we tried to come to your assistance! But Lord Tuck forbade it! I told the men that they had to obey, but they were angry, very angry! And when Lord Tuck told Lord Gamelin to rescue you! Ai! We cried to the heavens! But I told them what did they expect, after what they had done?

“And then, Tanda Havra! Lord Gamelin! He didn’t attack with rifles and pistols, as any man would! No! He called to his men to sling their rifles and draw sabers! Not even a finger width, Tanda Havra! And the God-King’s soldiers were dead! Every last one of them!”

“Well, someday you can tell my uncle what a great soldier Lord Gamelin is. You can tell him too, about Lady Judy, who held,” Tanda said.

“Your father, Tanda Havra?”

“Ornery. A broken arm, at least one bayonet thrust to his leg, another to the arm. Tazi died. Zokala died. So did a lot of other fine and good people.”

The paracop blinked. “My lady! Tazi! I...”

“Don’t bother with words! She wanted that fat bastard God-King dead. My future husband promised me we’d do it by the winter solstice. I laughed, do you understand? I laughed at him. Now, well, come the solstice, that fat bastard will be dead! If my husband-to-be doesn’t see to it, I will!”

“This is all wonderful,” Tuck told them, “but I still have an army to fight. What you did in Tarr-Dombra, Judy, was brave, very brave. But there were less than a hundred of you and more than a thousand of them. Forty thousand more came against the rest of us this morning.”

“I assume you dealt with them?” Tanda asked. “I was too busy to watch.”

“Me, too,” Lady Judy said. Lady Judy was very, very angry, Tanda saw.

“We destroyed them. We have less than five hundred casualties. I never dreamed they would attack our left flank; it was stupid. Their losses prove it was stupid. Everyone tells me that the God-King’s generals like to make a demonstration in one place, and then attack in another. Up to now, I’ve never given them a chance to plan an attack. For the life of me, I can’t imagine a more stupid plan than the one they tried.”

He turned to Judy. “Not that it didn’t cost you. I’m sorry, Judy, I’m truly sorry. But I told you that shit happens. It does. It would be nice if we could assume that from here on out they will keep doing stupid things, but it’s not going to happen. There were survivors today. Any of them who are truly smart will realize what might have indeed worked.

“They spent themselves uselessly on your people, Judy. You fought well and bravely and gave heart to everyone in the army. When the God-King’s main attack came, we brushed it aside.

“Now, however, they’ve withdrawn and once again, we face each other across this valley. We have to do something, but if I attack them, I’ll get my head handed to me, just like I handed them theirs. So? Now what?”

Judy reached out and ran three bloody fingers over Lord Tuck’s cheek. “Something will come to mind, I know you.”

“It’s a risk,” he told them. “But the fact is, they don’t seem to have figured out my specialties are raids and ambushes. This sorry mess was another ambush.” He waved at the battlefield.

“The plan, Tuck,” Judy reminded him.

“At first light, we will evaluate all the wounded. Those that can be moved will be sent to Xipototec. Then I will have to contemplate what we do next, because anyone sorely wounded, those who can’t be moved, will die.”

“What is your plan, Tuck?” Judy repeated.

“We will withdraw in order as far as the horizon. Then we will take cover in a ravine we’ve found. We will let them see us leave. I expect them to scout forward. With the remaining scouts, I’m confident we can kill the ones that find us. They will march forward. This General Thanos is desperate for a victory. Yesterday, we didn’t even give him a victory on our left; that has to sting.”

“And then what, Tuck?” Judy asked.

“We hit him from the rear and roll up his army. We’ve done it before. Piece of cake. Then we do a quick march across the valley and hopefully catch his rearguards asleep. Kill them and the next town lays open before us. Odds are, with us around the walls, they’ll rise up.”

“My father will be one of those who returns to Xipototec,” Tanda told Tuck. “He has a broken arm and a bayonet wound in the leg.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Hestius,” Judy said, “should go, too. If he stays with us... he’ll do something really stupid.”

“I’m told his wounds are serious,” Tuck agreed.

He turned to Tanda. “And you, Tanda, how are you?”

“Bruised, but no broken limbs, no bullet wounds, no bayonet stabs. Stiff and sore. It will pass.”

“Lady Judy?” Tuck inquired.

She lifted her chin. “I’m fine.”

Tuck smiled slightly. “Then, please, do as I do.” He lifted both arms, parallel with the ground.

Judy did the same thing, although not as quickly. Tanda doubted that Lord Tuck missed seeing the beads of sweat pop out on her forehead, or the grimace of pain on her face.

“I guess you’re well enough to go on, then,” Tuck told Judy. He lifted his hands over his head for a brief moment, and clapped, then dropped them again to his side. Tanda knew Lady Judy closed her eyes at that, as the beads of sweat on her forehead turned to rivers.

“Lord Tuck,” Tanda said evenly. He turned to look at her. “Myself, I’m too tired to scratch. How about letting us get some sleep?”

“Of course, Tanda. Lady Judy.”

Tanda waved at Lady Judy, back towards Tarr-Dombra. She nodded and the two of them started back. Just before they went in, Tanda reached out and touched Judy on the arm.

“You think you got a lot of good people killed, today.”

“Didn’t I? They’re dead.”

“Yes, they’re dead. They already sing songs about you, Lady Judy. This will be another dozen verses. You, however, did not kill one of your people. Instead, you taught them to kill their enemies by the dozen, by the hundred. Not just any enemies, but the God-King’s soldiers! Some of his finest! Your people won the battle, Lady Judy! You won the battle! You were there, right to the end, with ideas and orders! You stood next to them, swinging a bayonet!

Judy laughed bitterly. “All I had at the end was a regular shovel.”

“Trust me, Lady Judy, that is a more fearsome weapon in the right hands than a bayonet!”

“My people are dead!” Judy reminded Tanda Havra.

“Yes, a great many are. But some lived. It is the stuff of legend, Lady Judy! And now they have lived it! Those who survived will be telling their children and grandchildren about this day!”

“Assuming I don’t get them killed, too!”

“Judy, you and I–we’ve never liked each other. First, you were jealous of Tuck. Then I was jealous of Tuck. We were both wrong, for opposite reasons. Tuck is his own man and makes his own decisions. You’ve long since passed the point where you want to be a part of the decision-making. That’s why you took this job, so you didn’t have to worry about maybe being thrust into Tuck’s job if something went wrong.

“I, on the other hand, have never wanted to be a decision maker, but to my surprise, I find I can do it. This makes me more uncomfortable than you will ever know. I hate people like that!

“We have our own paths, Judy. I will wed Tuck and he will be a fine father and I will be the best mother I can be. You will wed Gamelin and your children will listen in awe at the tales of your brave deeds. But you will be content as a mother, as will I.”

She waved around her. “I could hunt animals, can and have. I kill them without feeling any remorse; we were hungry and they were available. But war? Lady Judy, war isn’t hunting. It’s just war. Where men kill each other and the better at it you are, the more you are honored. I want no such honors, do you understand? None.”

“I understand.”

“Our husbands-to-be have no doubt worked out elaborate plans to keep us out of the fighting, once this war is over,” Tanda said, grinning. “We will profess to be shocked and displeased. But, Lady Judy, I can’t imagine I will ever leave the side of my children.”

“Until a few moons ago,” Judy told Tanda, “I was accounted a child. I’m still not sure what I want.” She waved at Tarr-Dombra. “I could live the rest of my life without ever being in such a place again.”

“But,” Tanda told her, “until that day, we both know our duty.”

Judy nodded, her face black with anger. “I’ve lost four out of five of the people who trusted me to bring them home safe. I will get better!”

Tanda could tell Judy wasn’t comfortable at all with the look Tanda gave her at that remark.

II

Freidal looked at his sister and nodded. “So, the baby is a boy?”

“Yes. She refuses, though, to look at him. A wet-nurse wasn’t a problem, but she will have to tell us what she wants to do with him.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Freidal told his sister, sounding far more confident than he felt. Lady Elspeth’s way with words was already legendary. It was, he thought, a small surprise, to find her words failed her when it came to the baby.

He walked down corridors, scandalized a few midwives and sat down on Lady Elspeth’s bedside. “I understand you are doing fine,” he told her.

“Yeah.”

“You have been an eloquent voice, Lady Elspeth–for Count Errock and the High King. I have the utmost respect for that.”

“What is it you want?” she asked, seemingly resigned.

“Nothing unreasonable. Lady Elspeth, we have laws in our land. I know you don’t hold the majority of our laws with any kind of respect and I would be pleased to hear your thoughts on those. But, Lady Elspeth, we have a law that says that within a moon quarter, a woman has to name the father of her child or declare her child a bastard.”

“He’s a bastard. What part of rape didn’t you understand?”

“Yet, Lady Elspeth, when my sister told you that wet-nurses would be provided to care for the child, to raise the child, that you would never, ever, have to worry about the child, you told her you weren’t sure if you could ‘let go.’”

“He’s a bastard, fostered on me by rape. Why should I ever love the bastard?”

“Because, rape or not, he’s your son. You and your bastard son have shared adventures. Not to mention, nearly cost me my throne. I have to admit some curiosity about how he’ll grow up.”

“Well, I doubt very much if a foreign bastard will be much of a threat to your throne.”

For several heartbeats Freidal goggled at the obtuseness and shallowness of her comment. Then he realized Lady Elspeth simply didn’t see things the way any other Zarthani or Hostigi would. She had no idea what she’d just suggested as a possibility.

He decided that if nothing else, he could have this one moment of revenge against her tongue. “There are things you and I could do to minimize that threat,” he told her.

Lady Elspeth grimaced, realizing she had said something wrong, but with no idea what. “Count Errock told me that where I was most likely to be tripped up was in what seemed like casual conversation, about things very different between what I’m used to and what you are used to.”

“Are you too proud to ask what I first thought you meant, and what I just replied means?” Freidal asked her.

“It’s that I’m more tired than anything else,” Lady Elspeth admitted. “Okay, I’m a big girl. Even a mommy, after a fashion. What did I say?”

“The only way your son could be a threat to the kingdom was if we were married.”

He saw her throat work. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know. But most of my people would take that as your meaning.”

“The man that fathered that baby took me as I lay unconscious after he’d beaten me senseless. A second tried and I killed him. Another man, a fine man, agreed to marry me. Then your soldiers killed him; he didn’t want, he told me, to lie with a pregnant woman. Do you really want to be number four on the hit parade?”

Freidal shrugged. “I don’t know what a “hit parade” is. Right now, if I announced my intention to marry you, like as not, I’d be dead within a moon.”

“It’s always nice to hear from a man how much he loves and respects you,” Lady Elspeth said, her voice bitter.

Freidal grinned. “Lady Elspeth, bedding you would be like bedding a cactus. You use leather gloves, a leather apron and a great deal of care. I don’t honestly know what I think and since I became king the most important lesson I’ve learned is to think long and hard before I act, and think even longer and harder before I speak in front of you. My father didn’t think. My mother didn’t think; Xitki Quillan didn’t think. Dralm knows, for the priests of Styphon, their one true god was really avarice, which made their brains wither.

“Now, please rest. As I said, you have a moon quarter to decide about the baby. More than one woman has awoken, a new mother has had misgivings.”

“I suppose they get over them, right?”

“Most do. Some don’t.”

Lady Elspeth shook her head. “I guess you don’t much respect those who turn away, do you?”

“It is duty, Lady Elspeth. Duty isn’t doing only the simple, pleasant, safe things. Duty is doing what’s set before you, regardless of anything else. Your son’s father did you wrong; none will tell you different. But your son is half yours, Lady Elspeth. He is as much of your flesh as any woman’s child. He no more asked for this existence than you asked for his.”

He turned and walked away without another word.

Elspeth sank back into the bed. It was as if she’d been hit over the head. All this time, it was self-pity and self-loathing driving her! How could she ignore the simple biological fact that half of her son’s genes were hers? Freidal was deadly accurate when he said her son had no more choice in who he was than he’d had in how he was made.

Fairness? She’d never given him a chance! Maybe he’d turn out to be a rapist, like his father. What sort of genes did he inherit from his mother? She’d never thought about that, not even a bit.

In spite of the discomfort that came from rolling on her side, she did, facing away from the door. Time to think...

III

Gamelin bowed to Lord Tuck. “Lord, the scouts report that the God-King’s soldiers are withdrawing.”

Even though the sun was barely over the horizon, Lord Tuck’s camp was bustling with activity. Wagons were being readied and the wounded prepared to be moved. Lord Tuck ran his hand across his face.

“At some point they have to realize that we don’t fight except when attacked, and that when they attack us on ground of our choosing, they get slaughtered. Do you suppose General Thanos has finally woken from his slumbers and is trying a trick?”

Gamelin could only shrug. “Lord Tuck, that is why we have scouts.”

Lord Tuck actually laughed at what really was an admonishment from a junior. “Lieutenant, fetch Captain Vertax.”

Gamelin did as bid. The older man was sitting in a cluster of the Mexicotál sergeants and lieutenants, talking to them about battle tactics. Gamelin had no idea how a man could look so calm and so unaffected when his only daughter had died the day before. He delivered the message, and then walked with Vertax back to Lord Tuck.

“Captain,” Lord Tuck addressed the Mexicotál officer, “I have a difficult and dangerous task for you.”

“I am yours to command, Lord Tuck.”

“I told you before how sorely your daughter will be missed,” Lord Tuck told him.

The man shrugged. “My daughter and I both died the day I turned my coat and began helping the Hostigi. We both knew the day was very close when we agreed to help you take Xipototec. That is why she let me paint her face, Lord Tuck.”

Tuck nodded. “I know, but I have to ask if you plan on throwing your life away.”

“No, Lord Tuck. Death came to Zokala; it will come for me. But I no more seek it than she did.”

“The God-King’s Captain-General Thanos appears to be withdrawing, according to the scouts. Please, take a company of Mexicotál infantry and see what you find on the other summit. We’ll send a couple of Hostigi signalmen with you.”

“Thank you, Lord Tuck!” Vertax looked across the valley at the ridgeline across from them. “We should be there two palm widths after High Sun. We’ve heard from several refugees that the people of Tecpan were restive. It is possible that if word leaked out about another defeat, that they’ve risen.

“Find out what you can. Your orders are to learn what you can and then report. Hold the heights, but only if there is little risk, do you understand? If there is any counterattack, withdraw.”

“I understand, Lord Tuck!”

He turned and trotted back to the group of men he’d been talking to moments before, calling for two officers and a half dozen sergeants.

Gamelin stood with Vosper a few finger widths later as the Mexicotál moved out, heading down the ridge, past the heaps of dead soldiers from the battle the day before. It was then that Gamelin noticed something. “Vosper, do you see it? The road is clear!”

Vosper laughed. “Aye, I think they believed they’d make short work of us and they wanted to keep it clear for their artillery and supply train as they started towards Xipototec.”

They watched the Mexicotál break into a run. Gamelin was pleased–they were in step! The sound of more than a hundred feet slapping the ground at a time was impressive.

He turned to Vosper. “It is but three moons since we took Xipototec, but Oath to Galzar! I’d not like taking my company against those men!”

Vosper waved at the ruin on the hillside. “Lord Gamelin, it’s been little more than seven moons since Lord Tuck came to us. Anyone attacking Lord Tuck’s soldiers is making a serious mistake! And it doesn’t matter how many men they bring with them!

Gamelin shaded his eyes against the bright morning sun. “Do you really think the God-King’s soldiers are trying a trick?”

“I talked to the artillerymen late last night. They say that the enemy didn’t retreat in order. They turned and ran, throwing down their weapons. That’s when Lord Tuck ordered the ceasefire, or else we’d have had to clear another road.”

Gamelin frowned. “I wish he’d find someone else to clear the next road.”

“I imagine he will, Lord Gamelin! I...” Vosper stopped talking, looking behind Gamelin.

Gamelin turned and looked. Lady Judy and less than a dozen of her company, with the half dozen Hostigi survivors behind her, were marching in good order towards where Lord Tuck was standing, watching them. Lady Tanda, Gamelin noticed, was bringing up the rear, but she too was marching with the rest.

They stopped and Lady Judy saluted Lord Tuck. “Captain, my company reports for duty, along with a few stragglers.”

Lord Tuck gravely returned the salute, and then beckoned to Tanda Havra. “Sergeant, I have a question for you. The Ruthani scouts have taken sore losses, as has Lady Judy’s company. Do you think you could integrate Lady Judy's people with your Ruthani? If you think they can run well enough?”

Tanda Havra lifted her voice. Like Lord Tuck, Gamelin thought, when she wanted to be heard, she had no trouble. “Captain Tuck, Lady Judy’s company did not run when it counted! The Ruthani would be honored to number ourselves among them!”

Maybe two hundred of the thousands of the soldiers in the camp heard Tanda Havra’s words. There was a buzz of talk, and then cheers, followed by more cheers, until everyone in camp was stomping and cheering.

Vosper nudged Gamelin, speaking up, over the din. “Did you hear that? She offered to have the Ruthani serve under Lady Judy!”

Gamelin hadn’t noticed it at the time, but when he listened to the words in his head again, he knew the truth of it. The camp was filled with thousands of men, cheering lustily for all they were worth.

It brought tears to his eyes. This was soldiering as he’d imagined it! Oh, true, he’d imagined it was himself being cheered, and he would never have imagined a woman being cheered like this, except maybe the High Queen.

He smiled slightly to himself. But that’s the way of it, wasn’t it? Many kings had daughters and wives. But only High Queen Rylla was cheered by the soldiers everywhere she went. And now Lord Tuck had Lady Judy.

The men of the High King’s army weren’t trying to curry favor with the High King when they cheered his wife. No, indeed, they were simply lifting their voices in recognition of someone blessed by Galzar in the strength of their arms and their mind. As was Tuck’s army’s love for Lady Judy bringing the cheers forth.

Eventually the cheering came to an end. Lord Tuck smiled at Tanda Havra. “Lady Tanda, you are more familiar with the duties of scouting, so you shall command, unless it comes to another time where running is of no use. Then Lady Judy will command!”

Gamelin wasn’t sure how that would work, but he was cheering himself hoarse along with everyone else a heartbeat later.

IV

Legios watched from his perch on the low wall around the inn as the people of the town celebrated their liberation in the fountain square. He couldn’t really begin to understand the emotions running through him as he watched them celebrate. Probably, he thought, the biggest emotion he felt was pride. We did this. My soldiers did this. The Zarthani had taken more than two hundred prisoners; every man, woman and child of the town except the barkeep and a half dozen who’d died fighting.

He heard the sound of horses behind him and he turned to look. It was dark and his night vision had been spoiled by the fire the townspeople had lit in the town’s square.

He stealthily drew his pistol, prepared to fire instantly at the first likely target, to give his men a chance to get set.

To his surprise a single man came out of the night, sitting his horse quietly. Legios recognized him instantly: the old sergeant who served the captain-general.

“Sergeant! Surely you are not alone!” Legios called.

The old sergeant laughed. “Surely, no one important wants to be shot by an excited sentry! But I guess if a lieutenant is on duty, the sentries will be calm, eh?”

Legios couldn’t help himself. “There were some of the God-King’s soldiers here; they tried to trick us. Instead, we ran them out and rescued a bunch of townspeople. They are celebrating their rescue!”

Another rider appeared next to the sergeant. “Funny, I could have sworn the orders I gave Captain Halkon didn’t include skirmishing with the enemy and rescuing civilians!”

Legios jumped up, his hand falling away from his pistol. “Captain-General!”

Another man, older and disheveled, rode into the circle of light around the inn. Whatever Legios was going to say next, choked in his throat. “Lord King!”

“None of that, Lieutenant!” the captain-general countered instantly. “There is no bowing and scraping in the field!”

Legios could hardly move, paralyzed with awe. The High King! Here!

More men filtered out of the night. Actually, hundreds of them. Hard-eyed men on horses who moved to circle the town in both directions.

“We’ll be camping to the south and west of the village,” the captain-general told Legios. “If you have some good sergeants, put them in charge of your men, if you can spare us a little time for a report.”

“Yes, sir!” Legios said, turned and looked at the inn’s courtyard. Short Mortar was dancing with a woman almost as big as his brother. Big Mortar was standing alert, his eyes on Legios. Legios beckoned to him.

The big man moved glacially slowly. “I have to report to the captain-general,” Legios told him. “You and your brother have the company until I return.”

Big Mortar glanced at the two men, now in the center of a semi-circle of guards. “You’re going to report to the captain-general, eh? Sure, Lieutenant, whatever you say!” He saluted more formally than Legios had ever seen him salute before. Not that he’d seen Big Mortar salute more than once before.

Legios walked towards the two men. “Sir, I am at your disposal.”

“Where are your horses, Lieutenant?” Hestophes asked.

Legios grimaced. That had been a fine horse! They’d found a few, but most had vanished, including his. “Sir, we were surrounded. I didn’t want to have to deal with them.”

The High King turned slightly, lifted a leg and slid off his horse. Captain-General Hestophes laughed. “If I tried that, sire, I’d ruin something important.”

“Practice, Hestophes! It’s all practice!” The High King turned to Legios. “Lieutenant, please walk with us.”

Legios nodded numbly, not sure if he’d done well or ill. To his surprise the High King and the captain-general moved to the wall, where he’d been sitting a few moments before, looking at the festivities in the town.

Legios winced when he realized that Big Mortar had gone back to those self-same festivities and was standing a little apart, watching Legios and his very high-ranking guests.

“What happened here, Lieutenant?” the High King asked.

Legios explained, and then at the end added, “I wasn’t sure about the barkeep. He just looked too nervous. The men with him looked confident and assured, too confident, too assured.”

“Was one of them my height,” the captain-general asked, “blonde and blue-eyed, rather young?”

“He wasn’t either of the first two we met,” Legios reported. “But such a man joined them later. It was he who told us that they’d bought the locals from the God-King’s soldiers. That was the man who laughed at the priest of the God-King.”

“I’m confident that man,” the captain-general told Legios, “is the man now commanding this part of the army of the God-King, General Denethon. This isn’t the first time the general has done what he could to keep civilians safe. Of course, he’s in command, so who knows? He has a very senior high priest of the God-King with him, but that doesn’t sound like the priest you described.”

The High King spoke up. “There is a faction in the God-King’s court that wants to come to terms with us. I think the God-King is playing the factions off against each other, because there is another faction that wants to slaughter each and every non-believer on the Great Pyramid in the Valley of the God-King.”

Legios said something inane, not knowing what else to do.

“Now, Lieutenant, I will tell you another secret of the High King,” High King Kalvan told Legios. “One that even Captain-General Hestophes has only a dim idea about.” The High King waved to the south.

“The Valley of the God-King is the biggest pile of fireseed you can imagine. You are, I understand, from Xiphlon?”

“Now, sir,” Legios told him. “My father used to have a farm near Listra Mouth. We had to leave and lost everything in the fighting against Gormoth of Nostor. Now my father is a merchant in Xiphlon.”

“Xiphlon is the largest city in my realm, do you understand that?” the High King asked Legios.

“Yes, sir. My father told me once that there were a hundred thousand registered citizens of Xiphlon and perhaps that many not registered.”

“Indeed so, Lieutenant. The God-King’s heartland valley has two hundred cities larger than Xiphlon.”

Legios tried to think about what that meant; the numbers were too large. Entirely too large.

“If you’re having a little trouble coming to grips with the numbers, don’t worry. I told Hestophes before he left to come south to be careful and not to win too big. Because the God-King has ten million soldiers in his valley.”

Legios gulped.

“And I’ve tried to fight as carefully as I can. Alas, neither Captain-General Oaxhan nor the God-King himself have cooperated. They let their armies be slaughtered. The God-King sent nearly a half million men against Count Alkides’ guns, all of which were firing case shot. Most of those men died... and that was just so the God-King could mount a particularly stout horse and flog it to death within the first mile.

“Now the God-King’s lands are seamed with revolt. I never figured Count Errock, holding my western flank, could do much, so I told him he could offer the usual incentives to the Zarthani and the God-King’s people if they could swear allegiance to me, and then he should retreat. Instead, he’s done more than demonstrate, which is all I’d hoped he’d do. Instead, his forces have taken towns and cut a path through the God-King’s armies opposing them. I hadn’t wanted to invade the God-King’s lands; now it’s been done for me.

“And those lands are slowly, steadily, coming to a boil. Lieutenant, all those people require vast amounts of food. That food is provided by an infrastructure that has taken a thousand years to build. If there are riots and revolt, if there is any sort of serious fighting down there, the roads and warehouses, the farms and wagons, the horses and crops, all will go up in smoke. Leaving two hundred million very hungry Mexicotál slaves, serfs and a few million soldiers, nobles and priests.”

Legios understood then. Two hundred million two-legged locusts would be turned loose on the world. The High King smiled when he realized Legios understood. “Yes, exactly so, Lieutenant.”

“If the God-King collapses, people, whose only crime is to be victims of terrible oppression, will be turned loose, starving and afraid, on the world. My army will have to defend my lands and my people. We will kill a great many of them. In truth, we do not have enough ammunition to kill them all, or the will to kill that many people.

“I have decided, Lieutenant, to violate my word. Not the letter of it, perhaps, but the spirit. There is not that much land in my kingdom, to distribute. There isn’t that much land in all of the kingdoms to distribute.”

“I’m not sure what I can do, sire,” Legios admitted.

The High King smiled. “Son, there’s nothing you can do but listen to someone bitch and bellyache, just like any private in this army. Tomorrow, I’ll be sending word south. So sorry, my promise of freedom is valid, my promise of fair treatment is valid, but the promise of land if you enlist in my army is only valid if you are from the Northern Regime and enlist in an existing slot in the army.”

“That’s fair,” Legios said stoutly.

“It might be fair,” the High King said, “but it’s not exactly what I said before.”

Captain-General Hestophes suddenly grinned. “How about letting others besides yourself share in the wealth, my Lord? I have lands that could be granted, I know of many others with extra land as well. If the money was paid to me, to them, instead of you, we’d only be too glad to accept the gold Kalvans!”

The High King fixed a gimlet eye on his favorite general. “The soldier’s oaths would still be to me, the only oath they would swear to another is to repay the Kalvans.”

“Of course, sire!” Hestophes replied, grinning. “But all that gold! It will suffice, Lord Kalvan! More than suffice!”

The High King turned to one of the men not far away. “Map!”

The man rooted around in a saddlebag, found what he was looking for and brought it to the High King.

He spread the map on the wall, and Hestophes and Legios peered at it. “We are here,” the High King said pointing to where the village lay. “About three day’s march from the Big River. While Lieutenant Legios did a masterful job of distracting the God-King’s people from killing him, General Denethon was doing a masterful job of keeping the lieutenant’s eyes fixed on the near distance.”

Hestophes spoke up. “In fairness to Lieutenant Legios, sire, his job was taking care of the near distance. I sent him to scavenge for food, not fight a battle or scout for our armies.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to sound disparaging about what the lieutenant and his men did. But the fact remains that while he was talking, about sixty thousand of the God-King’s soldiers passed east of the village, heading south for the Big River.”

Legios flushed with embarrassment, but the High King shook his head.

“There was no way you could see them, Lieutenant, unless you were mounted and actively scouting. If you’d done that, your company would be dead now.

“Now, Lieutenant, I want your men to mount up, first thing in the morning. There is a company of militia here,” he pointed on the map, well to the southwest. “I think General Denethon knows how close he is to being trapped. I think he’s going to swing further west. The Big River is a little further in that direction, but he’ll get further from us.”

“Further than me?” Hestophes asked gruffly.

“I know, but I want you to continue south and not turn west just yet. I want you to cross the river, and if the scouts are right, about here,” he pointed to a small patch of mountains, “you can get past them, and stop them from going any further south. That’s the least I can do for Lord Tuck, the man who is leading Count Errock’s army down there.

“That will force Denethon still further west before he can cut south. There is a single small town of the Northern Regime there. I’ll come at it from the north, Hestophes from the southeast, and I’ve sent word to Lord Tuck to come from the west. I want that army to surrender, do you understand? Oath to Galzar and then given the option to enlist.”

Even Hestophes choked on that. “Can you trust them?”

“I’ve trusted mercenaries. I’ve trusted soldiers from other kings who surrendered, Oath to Galzar. I’ve made them fair offers, offers that the priests of Galzar Wolf’s Head have no issues with. We will do the same for those soldiers under General Denethon.”

It was, Legios realized, Hestophes that the High King was talking to, really, not him.

“I’m not sure how this Lord Tuck has managed it, but he managed to turn a thousand Hostigi militia and mounted infantry into an army of nearly eight thousand. They are bound to have taken casualties. When we got done, I want to leave Lord Tuck with as many of those forty thousand regulars as we can.”

He reached out and touched Legios’ arm. “You understand, once we have a peace, if we have a peace, those folks are going to be hanging out here, like apples on a tree branch? That for a couple of years, if the God-King manages to keep a grip on things, that I can’t risk defending them with more than token troops?”

Legios nodded. “I’ve heard that this Lord Tuck is an honorable man.”

The High King bobbed his head. “It is said he is a countryman of mine. He says not. I say not. Some have even said we are brothers. He says not and I say not. We are men, honorable men, brothers under the skin, not of blood, but of thought. Do you understand?”

Legios nodded, as did Hestophes.

“So, Lieutenant, you will go and reinforce this militia company, in the off chance that Denethon wants to go further west than I wish him to go. Once again, your orders are unpleasant. Don’t allow the God-King’s soldiers to pass. Hestophes will make good on horses and ammunition. He can find a few men to round out your numbers. Three hundred, I think, will do.”

Hestophes barked a laugh and Legios nearly fainted. Three hundred men! Not a company, but a battalion, nearly!

“You and your men are to move fast, Lieutenant! I want you there before General Denethon!”

“Yes, sir!” Legios replied, saluting.

The High King grinned. “Now, I’m going to find where they’ve pitched my tent and rest my royal bottom.”

He turned and walked back to the man who was patiently holding the High King’s horse’s reins. The two of them vanished into the dark.

Hestophes clapped Legios on the back. “Very good, Captain!”

Legios swallowed again. “Captain?”

“Can’t have a lieutenant in command of that many men, there’d be too much back-biting from the other lieutenants. Nope, now you’re a captain.”

“Yes, sir,” Legios replied, stunned.

“I will recommend forming the company, centered on this inn,” the captain-general continued. Legios nodded, still stunned and numb.

“And, as always, we’re short junior officers of proven worth. If you have a couple of good sergeants, make them lieutenants.”

Legios decided that he’d look stupid with his mouth hanging open in astonishment. “Yes, sir. There’s plenty of room here in front of the inn. A fenced-in area in front of the inn, then a small plaza.”

“Good! It’ll probably take a palm width, Captain, before I have it straight who will be going with you. Nonetheless, you should expect to be underway shortly before dawn. Captain Halkon will see to more ammunition for your mortars.”

“What will the army use, sir?” Legios asked.

The captain-general grinned. “Captain, you may not believe it, but the High King holds the keys to the kingdom’s treasury. When he turns them, a truly amazing amount of largesse spills forth!”

Legios shut up. Yes, if you were the High King, probably so. Hestophes sketched a salute, turned to the old sergeant, talking about units to be sent to Legios.

Legios stood for a moment, still in mild shock. Then he looked and saw Big Mortar and Short Mortar standing next to each other, looking right at him. Well, Legios thought, do I have a surprise for you two!

He walked over to them.

“Was that who I thought it was?” Big Mortar asked.

“Aye,” Legios said, looking innocent. “That was Captain-General Hestophes.”

“No, the other fella. The one with the little pointy beard, like the High King favors.”

“Captain-General Hestophes has promoted me captain,” Legios said, just getting it over with.

“Well,” Big Mortar said. “Congratulations, sir!”

“And he told me that I can make the pair of you lieutenants. Congratulations, lieutenants!”

Short Mortar paled and Big Mortar laughed. “Ha! Ha! Not funny!”

“Nope, we’re getting reinforced by a couple hundred men, and our mounts will be replaced. I’m not sure if we’ll end up at another hundred or maybe two hundred or even three hundred, they were a little vague. The captain-general is giving us a priority on men, mounts and supplies. We have to be ready to go before first light.”

Short Mortar was still in shock. Big Mortar waved at the dying embers of the party. “And if the company is drunk at first light?”

“They’re mounted infantry. They can ride drunk, right?”

Big Mortar nodded.

“And then there are all those fresh soldiers, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and who have never been told even one of the High King’s secrets. Think how eager they will be to please, if only we share our knowledge with them!” Legios told them.

Even Short Mortar laughed at that.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Legios told them. “Then a very quick march where we’ll join up with some of the High King’s militia, assuming they are still alive. We’re to stop this army from going any further west.”

“What army?” Short Mortar asked.

“Why, that would be the sixty thousand soldiers that passed east of us as I dazzled a half dozen of the God-King’s soldiers with my wit.”

Big Mortar grimaced. “I saw some of them, but I didn’t know there were that many. I figured you didn’t want to know.”

“Next time, trust me a little,” Legios told him.

“Since you made me a lieutenant?” Big Mortar replied. “That will be when horses fly!”

It was a long night and a looked to be a longer day.


	30. The Last Battles

I

Captain Legios raised his hand and the column obediently stopped behind him. Ahead, down the hill, he could see a crossroads, the east-west road about three miles north of a range of hills to the south. The southern fork of the road vanished into a gap between two of the hills to their right front. His company was coming from the north.

To make life interesting, several hundred infantry were spread out along either side of the road, north and south of the road parallel with the hills. At least, Legios thought, they were Hostigi infantry. That had to be counted as the good news; the bad news was they were frantically digging in.

Next to him Big Mortar stood up in his stirrups, shading his eyes. The morning sun was fairly well up in the sky now, perhaps midmorning or a bit earlier. “That looks like the local militia we are supposed to meet, Captain.”

“Corporal Hollar!” Legios called and the corporal rode forward from his place behind the Mortar lieutenants. “Corporal, ride down there and find out what’s going on.”

“We could all go,” Short Mortar said, also craning to look.

“You really want to ride a couple of hundred men forward into the flank of some militia getting set?” Big Mortar asked his brother rhetorically.

Corporal Hollar hadn’t waited, but was already heading down the hill.

In the distance came a single shot. Legios was pleased to see that the smoke shot out in the wrong direction. Well, maybe, Legios thought he shouldn’t be all that pleased. The militia didn’t appear to be worth much. Even from half a mile away, though, the sound of a bull-voiced sergeant could be heard screaming at someone.

After a finger width the corporal returned, galloping his horse. Also not good, Legios thought.

Hollar reported. “Militia Captain Venizelos sends his compliments, Captain. There are about two thousand of the God-King’s soldiers just east of here, headed west. The militia intend to make a stand because of the refugees.” He pointed to the southwest.

Legios kicked himself. There was a mass of people forted up in wagons atop a small hill. Civilians. “There are about a thousand refugees from the local area that were trying to get further east. They are short on food and water, Captain. This Captain Venizelos has ordered you to report to him.”

Legios contemplated that. He’d been ordered here to take command. He doubted that the High King planned for another captain usurp that.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Legios muttered. “Two thousand?”

“Consider the source,” Short Mortar said. “Damn local militia.”

“Captain Venizelos,” Corporal Hollar added, “is just a little long in the tooth.”

“Enough!” Legios told them.

He lifted his hand high. “Forward!” He led the column ahead, down the hill.

Captain Venizelos was indeed long in the tooth, easily sixty, Legios thought. The captain sat astride a mule, and he looked like his dinner had been sour, his digestion sour and his disposition worse.

“Your corporal, Captain, was insubordinate. I asked who you were and he told me he couldn’t tell me. Even when I gave him a direct order.”

“Captain, those are his instructions. Only I could countermand them. I’m sorry if he offended you, sir, but those were his orders.”

“What,” the militia captain said as he saw the long line of pack animals, “are those loaded with?” He gestured towards the civilian camp. “I have nearly a thousand very hungry civilians.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I have very few rations, just few days for my men. Giving any or all of that to your civilians, sir, could mean that I’d fail in my mission. And would not provide much for your people. Sir, I’m sorry, but I must decline.”

“Who is your commanding officer? What unit are you attached to?” the captain asked.

“Sir, I am Captain Legios, of the First Mounted Rifles. Beyond that, sir, I’m sorry. By personal order of Captain-General Hestophes, my mission and unit details are secret. You’ll have to take any issues you have with me or my men up with him, Captain.”

“Can your men fight, Captain? Or is that a secret too?”

“Yes, sir. We can fight! I understand you have a couple of thousand God-King’s soldiers coming up from the east.”

“Already here, Captain,” Big Mortar said, pointing. Legios looked, saw two large blocks of the God-King’s infantry appear, moving down the road about three miles away.

“Big, I saw a ravine back about a hundred yards. Tell the men to set up there. Action left front, range one mile, call it in about two finger widths. Skinny fingers.”

Big Mortar was off, calling orders. Short Mortar was standing up in his stirrups, checking the lay of the land, and then he was calling the gun captains to mark targets.

“I want your men on my line, Captain! You will not hide in a ravine in the rear,” the militia captain said, his voice stiff with anger.

“Sir, I assure you my men will see action long before yours. Sir, please look at this.”

Legios handed Captain Venizelos the order written in the High King’s own hand.

“Sir, please tell your people to get down and stay down. When the shooting stops, they can mop up.”

“Mop up?”

Short Mortar popped up, gesturing at the approaching soldiers. “Captain, I think this is the same bunch we ran into yesterday.”

“Ran away, did you?” the captain sneered.

Short Mortar just laughed, pretending to misunderstand. “Aye they did, damn fast!”

“Captain,” Legios said, pointing to the north. “Right now the High King is over there, coming up behind the God-King’s soldiers.” He pointed due east. “Over that way is Captain-General Hestophes. Somewhere to the southwest is Lord Tuck. More than a half a million men, Captain. Even now, the corporal you found ‘insubordinate’ is sending the warning to the High King and the captain-general. They will relay to Lord Tuck. With any luck, we can catch these bastards this time.”

A moment later Corporal Hollar flogged his horse up to Legios. “Captain, the Captain-General’s compliments. You are ordered to check the God-King’s van, estimated to be two thousand. The Quick Force will be here by High Sun, sir; the rest of the First Mounted by sundown.” The corporal glanced at the captain. “You are to assume command of any local militia and set them to protect the civilians.”

The militia captain drew a pistol and pointed it at Legios. “You will tell your people to form up with mine, Captain! Consider yourself under arrest! You can’t be senior to me, I’ve been a captain since before your mother was born.”

One of the militia soldiers, a bull-voiced older sergeant coughed. “Begging your pardon, Captain.” The sergeant waved at a heliograph blinking to the northeast. “They’re repeating the warning that the captain just told you about. The captain told you his orders. They are from the High King, Captain. And sir, Captain-General Hestophes has confirmed the plan, he says he’ll be in position before the sun goes down, with some reinforcements arriving by High Sun.”

The captain stared first at the sergeant, then at Legios.

Legios allowed no expression on his face, nor any in his voice. “Captain, if you would, please have your people take cover. Send someone to warn the civilians to take cover. The God-King’s soldiers are nearly in range of my guns; I doubt they will advance once we take them under fire. My experience is that they take to their heels once we open fire. But they will fire some shots this direction just to have clear consciences when they have to face their God-King’s wrath.”

“It’s more than a mile! You don’t have any cannon!” the captain said, still disbelieving.

“Sir, this is one of the High King’s secrets, although about now I suspect it’s more of a secret in his army than from the Mexicotál. Sir, if you would, my men need to engage here in a finger width.”

“You don’t have artillery!” the captain repeated, pointing to where Legios’ men had vanished. “Only artillery can engage at a mile.”

“Captain, at Three Hills, I was with the Sixth Mounted Rifles when the God-King’s soldiers attacked us on the first day of the battle. We took them under fire with rifles at a mile. Sharpshooters only, to be sure. My men, Captain, are the best damn sharpshooters in the army!”

Short Mortar laughed. “Yes, sir!” he said with considerable enthusiasm.

The old captain eyed Short Mortar, then his much larger brother.

Legios stared at the captain; the older man was beside himself with anger. “Captain, we have little more than a few heartbeats. Respectfully, sir, you need to tell your men to get down. Sir, if you can’t do that, I’ll have one of my lieutenants supersede you.” Legios turned to Short Mortar. “Tell your brother to commence.”

“Sir!” Short Mortar saluted, headed back for the wash.

The captain’s pistol had long since sagged. Now he turned to the sergeant. “Tell the men to take cover.”

“Sir!” The command was passed.

The captain stared at Legios for a long second. “Aren’t you going to take cover, Captain?”

“Sir, at Three Hills, I was my brigadier’s junior aide. I stood next to him on the parapet and watched the first day of the battle. He showed me, Captain, the very great importance of a commander watching the battle.”

The militia had, for the most part, taken cover. Behind Legios, came the first coughs of the mortars.

The militia captain turned his head to look at the unfamiliar sound. “Captain,” Legios said quietly, drawing the old officer’s attention back to him, “you might like to watch this.” Legios gestured towards the Mexicotál a mile away, advancing in two blocks of a thousand each, now on either side of the road.

A line of explosions ran diagonally across the block on the north side of the road. Legios set his face. He could hear the corrections shouted, heard the tubes fire again. “No, keep looking forward, Captain,” Legios told the other captain, and the captain’s eyes returned to the Mexicotál.

This time the explosions, twenty of them, were centered in the block of soldiers. And the mortars coughed once in mid-flight of the volley, a third time an instant after the second set of explosions.

“Great Galzar!” the militia captain shouted, “Look at that!” The block of God-King’s soldiers acted as if they’d exploded, they were fleeing in all directions–except towards the Hostigi guns. The unit on the south side of the road simply turned and started to run back the way they came. More explosions, and then more as the mortars continued to fire.

Legios had his whistle out, and blew it hard twice. The mortars stopped firing.

In significantly less time than it had taken for the God-King’s soldiers to march out of the hills, they were gone.

The militia captain stared at the havoc wrought.

“A calculated risk, Captain,” Legios said, trying to keep his voice level and unconcerned. “If they had charged forward...” Legios shrugged. “Like as not they would have taken serious damage, but carried the day. But, I think we fought these same men yesterday. They have no stomach for battle, Captain. None at all.”

“We should retrieve their weapons,” the captain told Legios.

“Sir, with respect, yes. But sir, the High King has ordered that any of the God-King’s soldiers that are taken prisoner, including their wounded, are to be treated with the highest regard. Send wagons, succor their wounded, as well as collect their weapons.”

“I can’t order that. These men have lived here on the border with the God-King’s soldiers for generations. They hate them.”

“Then, Captain, let my men do it. The High King, sir, told me to my face the importance of his order.”

The militia captain blinked. The High King was just over the horizon. To lie when the man himself was so close would have been insane.

In that moment, to the east there was a wall of sound, the explosion of thousands of rifles firing at once. Then another slam of sound, even louder, as a hundred artillery pieces went off in unison. Everyone looked east.

Short Mortar had returned, and he now laughed. “Oh, ouch! I bet that hurt!” Legios glared at the former sergeant. “At a guess, this Lord Tuck was a little previous,” Short Mortar observed.

“Captain,” Legios said quietly, “I want to take as many of the God-King’s soldiers prisoner from the rout as possible. My respects, sir, but I’d like your men to be ready to fire, but it has to be high, Captain. If you fire into them, they could despair. They might feel they have nothing to lose and so fight on. That must not be permitted, Captain. That must not happen, unless we absolutely must.”

II

Denethon stared at the man who was captain of his scouts when he came and sat down at Denethon’s fire in the first light of dawn. The man was filthy, soaked with sweat, although his weapons were clean enough.

“General,” the scout said, “there are about a few hundred or so militia west of us, guarding the crossroads. They must have some idea that we are coming; they are in the process of setting up to meet us. Further, there are about a thousand Hostigi civilians a mile or so west and a little south; they too are forted up on top of a hill.”

“That makes no sense at all,” Denethon mused. “The only reason to guard the crossroads would be to oppose us. If they know someone is coming, they have to know how many.”

“Unless it is another Hostigi ambush,” Gortan said from next to Denethon.

“Unless it’s a trap,” Denethon agreed. “But in this case, I think it is just a stupid militia captain. The High King wouldn’t risk civilians as bait in a trap.” Denethon turned to the scout captain. “You’re sure those are civilians?”

“They are mainly women and small children. Perhaps a hundred armed men, mostly older, a few young boys. One of my men got within bow shot last night. He is a good man–those are Hostigi civilians.”

“Captain Lanzas,” Denethon spoke to the man who commanded the van, “you will take the van, you will brush aside the Hostigi militia at the crossroads but don’t take any longer to do it than you absolutely have to. Be very careful not to take the civilians under fire. They appear to be too far away to effectively support the crossroads, so you shouldn’t have a problem with them. Then scout further a little south and further west. We know Hestophes is east, we know the High King is north. And we know Tuck is coming from the southwest.

“As soon as we’re sure we’re clear, we’ll hotfoot it at the double along the road, west. We will ignore those civilians.”

Denethon hated to say it, but the noose was tightening and soon it would close. It could be today or tomorrow. There was less and less chance of escape with every passing heartbeat. “If Hestophes is too close, if the High King is too close, if this Lord Tuck comes up...Lanzas you will order your men to disperse. They are to make their way towards Grayx, which at last report is still holding out. I will do the same with the main body. None of you will tell anyone else of this order, unless you must give it.

“If the men knew we planned on dispersing, they would promptly do it and not wait for further orders. If we have any hope of being of any use to the God-King, we must remain an organized formation if at all possible. On the other hand, with less than forty thousand to oppose the Hostigi we cannot afford a stand up fight unless we absolutely must, and then it has to be in a place of our choosing. This isn’t that place. Grayx, for food and water, then southeast from there. If we can reach the river, there are a number of places along it where we can make the High King pay dearly to dislodge us.”

It was, Denethon knew, a sop. The High King wouldn’t come against them, nor would Hestophes or this Lord Tuck. No, they’d bypass Denethon, cut he and his men off from food. His men would have water, but without food they would be starving in another moon quarter. And then he would have to capitulate. The urge to just end it all was getting stronger and stronger every day. He could just fork one of their few horses and head west. He could easily pass as a Hostigi refugee.

Could he face Xitki Quillan if he did that? No, probably not. The king who had promised him a reward was dead. Prince Freidal was, at last report, retreating west from as big a debacle as this had been.

Would Freidal honor his father’s promise to a newly ennobled minor baron, even if distantly related to Xitki Quillan?

Alros was sixteen. She had chosen Denethon and he’d chosen her. But the High King had a ten-year-old son and a fifteen-year-old daughter; a marriage of state between the High King’s son and Alros might save thousands of lives. And it wouldn’t be the first such marriage contract, where one party was older by a few years than the other. Freidal could secure a great deal with such a marriage. He could, perhaps, save his crown and his kingdom.

Denethon knew in his heart that he and Alros didn’t have much of a chance any more, not unless they eloped. Alros would not do that, not if he skulked back in the night. Probably she wouldn’t do it if he returned however nobly one can be after having personally lost more than forty thousand soldiers–even if most of those losses had come from desertion.

At least King Freidal and Count Quillan hadn’t run up the body count like the God-King had. There were more than a million dead soldiers of the God-King’s north of the river, perhaps a quarter that number south of the river. The forty thousand Denethon still commanded were probably going to die, because there was no food. The men under Denethon were the last organized force of the God-King’s soldiers north of the river. He huffed a sigh. This was going to end badly, there was no doubt about it.

The only real question was whether or not he’d let his men be slaughtered. And that wasn’t an option.

“Do what you were commanded,” Denethon ordered and the man moved rapidly to obey.

The only one who didn’t move was the Captain of Scouts, who stood his ground. “You have more?” Denethon asked. The other nodded, looked around, making sure that everyone else had left.

“Lord Denethon, two days ago my men saw Lord Tuck forty miles to the southwest, marching towards us. Last night the scout parties to the west and southwest reported that they couldn’t find the column, nor any sign of Tuck’s passage. The party more to the south did not report back, nor did the party due east or the parties in the north and northeast.

“It is possible, sir, that Tuck has joined with the High King. It is also possible, Lord Denethon, that Tuck could be coming in from due south–they could be very close, sir.”

“You have more men out?”

“Yes, Lord. But there hasn’t been time for them to go out and return.”

Denethon swallowed. That was not only bad, but very bad.

Denethon turned to the priest. “Get everyone up, all of them. We have to get to the ridge. If we can reach that, we will have the best position we’re likely to find. If Hestophes or the High King are close as well...”

The priest was off, calling for the surviving division commanders.

Denethon smiled to himself. Those commanders hadn’t liked Denethon putting Gortan over them, but they had no way to protest. And that had been then and this was now. Now they would jump to obey the priest. Gortan was no fool and a better commander than any of the surviving division commanders–and the division commanders knew it.

Denethon told his men to strike camp, then went and mounted one of the few horses they had managed to steal.

“They will be ready to move in a palm width,” the priest told Denethon. He nodded at Denethon’s long leather coat, twin to the one he was now wearing. The same coats the local folk wore in the heavy brush in the area. “It is a measure of our enemies that we have to wear these.”

“Wear them or die,” Denethon agreed. The regular Hostigi snipers were lethal, and their target of choice was an officer. Tuck’s men preferred to capture officers and priests alive. A year ago, Denethon would have sneered at an officer who hid himself, but that was a year ago. Denethon had given up wearing armor in battle as well. Why bother? Twice men around him had died, shot through and through, the nearest Hostigi perhaps a mile away. Their armor hadn’t helped them a bit. Gortan had been wounded four times, all minor burns and cuts. In any case, it was miracle enough for the common soldiers. Gortan’s officers jumped to obey him and the common soldiers worshipped the ground the priest walked on.

“Let’s go up to the pass and see how Lanzas does.” Denethon told the other. “I want a spot high up, with a view for today’s work.”

The priest nodded and the two men rode forward. They were about a mile from where the road crested the ridge. Behind them, about two miles back, were the first of the divisions marching rapidly forward.

“Look at me,” Denethon said, his voice low.

Gortan did, curious.

“Keep looking at me, say something.”

“What should I say?”

“If they’re close enough to hear us, we’re dead. Keep looking at me. Ahead of us, about forty yards, there are two large rocks to the right. When we get close to them, get ready. When I give the word, get down as low as you can and then spur your horse for all you’re worth.”

“Hostigi snipers?”

Denethon snorted. “There are more Hostigi on this hillside than fleas on all the dogs in the army! I think the only reason we’re alive is that we’re in plain sight of the divisions and look like a two point scouts. They don’t want to kill us and thereby alert the others.”

He saw the priest’s head start to move. “Don’t look! They might think I know about them, but if we look casual and unconcerned, busy with our conversation, they might ignore us. If you look, you’ll see them and they’ll be more tempted to do something unpleasant.”

Ahead of them a rider appeared, coming back towards them. The messenger stopped at the rocks. Denethon had to stop. He had to.

“Lord, Captain Lanzas reports that the Hostigi have been reinforced. The scouts saw them a little after dawn. About four hundred or so more, this time Hostigi regulars. They look like cavalry skirmishers. Captain Lanzas doesn’t think it will affect anything, but he wanted you to know.”

“Turn your horse around and ride ahead of us,” Denethon said evenly, moving his own horse forward. The rider did as bid. “Did you see the Hostigi skirmishers?”

“No, Lord. But the scout report was very complete. A captain, a couple of lieutenants at the head of a long column, with a lot of extra horses. They appeared to be heavy laden. Skirmishers who’ve been foraging was their thought.”

A shiver went down Denethon’s spine. “Ride!” He spurred his horse forward, pulling a pistol and turning behind him. What chance was there of hitting something at this range? He had to try! He sighted on the largest mass of his troops, held high and pulled the trigger.

Hell, Denethon thought, as he hunkered down in his saddle, is hoping that’s a lucky shot...and that I’ve killed or wounded one of my own men.

After a few heartbeats he heard the alarm bugles behind them, then ahead of them came a racketing series of explosions.

Mortars.

When Denethon and the other two reached the top of the ridge a finger width later, it was all over. Ahead of him, were clumps of God-King’s soldiers dead, slaughtered by those damn mortars! The troops who could run the fastest were perhaps a mile from the pass, obviously frantic to escape. And the mortars shifted their fire as they ran, killing more of them as they fled. Even as he watched, the artillery fire stopped.

Then behind him Denethon heard something even worse than the sound of twenty mortars firing–the sound eight thousand soldiers firing in a solid volley made. Denethon winced, but then came the slam of artillery, a solid thunder of perhaps a hundred big guns.

Denethon touched the dispatch rider. “Ride forward along the road, tell all who come this way to go south if they can and make their best way to Grayx. Do not go past that ravine there.” Denethon pointed to a ravine that the road dropped into, and then back up. “Tell them east and west is death. North is death. South is their only hope.”

Denethon laughed to himself. Their only hope was if the Hostigi thought they were trying to come round on their rear, and pulled some troops back to block that. Giving Denethon and his soldiers one more chance to run away.

Denethon turned his own horse south, riding along the ridge line. The priest rode wordless alongside him.

“Some day,” Denethon said as they made their way, “we will be old and gray and sitting in front of a fire surrounded by our children and grandchildren. Sipping wine, petting our dogs. We will tell the young ones of this day and none will believe us. That we rode around the flank of Lord Tuck’s army of eight thousand men, just the two of us.

“We will never be able to admit to them that the only reason we survived was because they did not think it worthwhile to kill us.”

Denethon started to curse then. “And if it was our men on that hillside? What chance would we have had? Two enemies in easy range? We would have been killed in a heartbeat, no matter how dire the threats screamed at them by our sergeants!”

“You are humiliated because so many moved into position within a few miles of our camp, along our march route,” Gortan observed.

“I am humiliated because so many of our soldiers can’t be trusted with the simplest tasks, that we don’t let them load their weapons for a route march. Did you hear any return fire? A few shots–that was all. Probably the half dozen surviving officers!”

“You gave them some warning.”

“I aimed at my own men! What kind of warning is that?”

“One unlikely to be ignored. A single shot in the distance? They might have thought that one of their own, about to get in trouble.”

“And of course,” Denethon continued, his voice still rising, “there was that other thing. This morning I contemplated simply riding away. West. But no, I couldn’t do that! I have my honor! I have my duty to my king, to your king! To the soldiers! So where am I now? Riding away. Duty, honor, and troops all behind me.”

“There was nothing else to do. Except die.”

“I would not think a priest of the God-King fears death.”

“I do not fear death,” Gortan agreed. “I would gladly die in the service of the God-King. Gladly. But, I am in service to the God-King, and, as with you, that service is a duty. Duty says, I do not throw away my life, when it will mean nothing, where there is benefit only to our enemies and none for the God-King.”

Denethon stopped his horse and looked behind him. There were hundreds of soldiers to the north, most making their way south.

“It is time, my friend, that we do some of that duty.” Denethon pointed at the men. “I will go there and rally them. You go south and rally those who’ve fled that way. We will meet there.” Denethon pointed at a hill ahead of them, out in the desert, perhaps three miles past the southern end of the hills. “Tell anyone who gets there to light a fire, a smoky fire during the day, bright and visible at night.”

The next morning Denethon stood up in his stirrups, watching the columns of troops coming down from the hills. Captain Tuck, eight thousand strong from the southeast, Hestophes and fifty-five thousand from the north, the High King and a hundred thousand from the east.

Denethon had less than twenty thousand men gathered about the hill. Few of them had weapons; fewer had any equipment.

There were towering palls of dust in every direction except south and west.

Gortan looked at him. “We must withdraw.”

Denethon nodded. “There are others of ours we can’t see, hidden out there. Perhaps another few thousand. About now, they are seeing the advance of our enemies. They will catch up in short order.”

“And at Grayx?” the priest asked.

“There we will fight and die. The troops will be exhausted. We will beggar the town, no matter what we do. But our only hope is that if we are behind the walls of the town we can treat with them.”

“For too long we’ve dwelt in cities with walls, content and secure,” the priest’s voice was filled with despair. “Yet you make it sound like Grayx is a trap.”

“Grayx is a trap,” Denethon responded. “Grayx is a town of five thousand. Even if they were provisioned for a siege, which I doubt, having this many extra mouths to feed will mean a very short siege.

“That’s the bad news. The good news is that the God-King can now dispense with city walls. Any village, town or city, no matter how strong the walls, cannot stand to be besieged by the High King, since their mortars can drop explosive shells inside the walls, no matter how tall the walls are.

“The really bad news would be if we are forced to fight, or the people of Grayx decide to fight. At this point, the High King will want to make an example of what happens to those who resist him. What would happen if they attack the town is terrible to contemplate.”

Gortan nodded. “When I was young, I was taught that sacrifice to the God-King was the highest honor a person could aspire to. I got older and learned to temper that with the thought that perhaps I could better serve the God-King by not dying, rather, the God-King would be helped by my living to do his will. Still, I taught death as duty to the soldiers, to the peasants and slaves. I thought they believed it, even though I was no longer sure that it applied to me.

“Now, if we sacrifice for the God-King all we will do is spill our own blood. What has the High King lost defeating us? A few thousand men? If that? Here? The vanguard never got close to the militia at the crossroads. When Lord Tuck attacked, the army just turned tail and ran, not able to fire so much as once. Why? Because their weapons weren’t loaded! Denethon! I have become a soldier! It is folly, Denethon, the height of folly for a soldier about to fight to march with an empty weapon.

“We lost ten or fifteen thousand men yesterday. And to what gain? One, two, maybe three Hostigi casualties? How can we fight that? How can we fight that?”

“We can no longer fight,” Denethon told him. “What we do now is try to survive, to be able to fight another time. We will fail, most likely, but it’s not possible to quit. Why, look! We have half the men we had yesterday! By the time they finish rallying to us, we might have three of four! We have won a victory! We simply didn’t die in windrows like those who’ve gone before us! A great victory!”

“General Denethon, you speak too ill of yourself. You have outfought our enemies. We have been chased and harried ever since Three Hills. Time and again you have outmaneuvered Hestophes. The High King has tried to catch us too, and we’ve out-marched and out-foxed him as well. Lord Tuck caught us, but unlike every other general of the God-King’s that has fought Lord Tuck, we still have three men in four, and more importantly, we’re clear of him and all the others.

“If we can get to Grayx, resupply and continue south, we stand a good chance of escaping them altogether!”

Denethon looked over the desert. Some of that was true, some of it was whistling in the dark to buck up their courage against the unseen demons of the night. Well, he had seen Captain-General Hestophes fight, and now his army had fought Lord Tuck. Those were demons you could see, easily enough!

III

Judy stretched in her saddle as they sat atop a small hill. In the distance a signal mirror was flashing. Much closer were the walls of a small town, even smaller than Xipototec.

Tuck took the glasses away from his eyes and slipped them inside his buckskin shirt. “That’s the High King. They’re about two palm widths away. He says he has sent us a personal representative and asks if we could please wait for the fellow, before we take the town.”

“It’s the last of the God-King’s towns now, in three hundred miles,” Gamelin growled. “We should just march over there and end this.”

Tuck waved at the afternoon sun, not nearly as high in the sky as it had been at midsummer. “I said we’d end this before the winter solstice, so we still have a few moon quarters yet. He is the High King, Captain Gamelin. You know, the man you call king.”

Gamelin sighed. “Do you think they’ll let me keep my rank?”

Tuck grinned. “Arm chair soldiers will decide that–so probably not. I can guarantee you that if we take that town before we talk to the High King’s man, you won’t. On the other hand, when he hears about that battle you planned and carried out, he might decide to keep you on–if you haven’t done anything rash in the meantime.”

“It was a pretty battle plan and went well,” Judy agreed.

Gamelin preened. “I got the idea from what I did when I first saw Lord Tuck’s magic wagon. I had my men walking their horses, while the scouts went ahead on foot. At the time I didn’t think about it, but the forward scouts were too far in the front by the time they reached the river. I wondered if maybe I couldn’t use that one day, and sure enough, they let their scouts get too far in front of their army and so we could slip between them.

“Then, I saw the same thing again, when we met the God-King’s soldiers at First Battle.

“I just wish we could have killed more of them this time,” Gamelin lamented.

“My goodness!” Tuck said with a laugh. “Who would have figured that they’d break before the echo of the first volley died away? Or that they could run so fast?”

“You’re sure my decision not to pursue was the right one?” Gamelin nervously asked his mentor.

“Once we’d come down from that hill, anything could have happened,” Tuck told Gamelin. “At some point in time they are going to run out of the will to fight.” Tuck waved at the town ahead of them. “I’m pretty sure this is it.”

Tanda Havra appeared abruptly, as if she’d sprung out of the ground. “If this is it, can we just go take the town?”

Gamelin started explaining it again, leaving Judy to sit and watch, a grin on her face. Tuck glanced at her and grinned as well.

A palm width later, four men rode up at the head of a column of a several hundred men. Tuck and the command group rode down the hill to greet them.

An older man, with gray frosting his hair, climbed down from his saddle and held out his hand to Tuck, when he too was down. “I’m Brigadier Verkan. The High King and Captain-General Hestophes sent me ahead with a present for you: a secret weapon.”

“A secret weapon?” Tuck said. “The last one we had worked really well until we ran out of mortar shells.”

Brigadier Verkan smiled and waved at the junior officer with his party, a very young captain. “Lord Tuck, this is Captain Legios. Currently the captain commands about a third of the High King’s mortars. He’s a very clever young man, however fast he shoots off the ammunition given into his care. He’s yours. So are his mortars and the ammunition he carries with him. Captain Legios of the First Mounted Rifles, recently promoted to command the Heavy Weapon Company.”

Tuck grinned at the young captain and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet another mortarman, Captain.”

“I’m honored, Lord Tuck,” Captain Legios told Tuck.

“Well, what say we send a messenger to the town, and see if we can get them to come out and talk surrender,” Brigadier Verkan said. “I’d like to be in the parley group and I’d like Captain Legios to be there as well.”

Judy hoped that the other wasn’t going to seek credit for the victory that was in no way his.

Tuck just nodded and turned to Tanda Havra. “Tanda, if you would. You and Lieutenant Vosper ride forward and tell them we want to talk. A palm width, a mile in front of their main gate.”

“Yes, Lord Tuck.”

She turned and motioned for Vosper and the two of them swung up on horses and started towards the town. Judy smiled. Vosper just happened to have a white banner in his hand and a horse for Tanda.

Brigadier Verkan smiled at Tuck. “That woman, she would be Tanda Havra, right? The Lost Ruthani woman who commands your scouts?”

“That is correct, Brigadier.”

The brigadier grinned. “I can see it written on the faces of your staff and officers, Lord Tuck. They don’t trust me, and they don’t trust the High King, not really.”

“Brigadier, we are a long way from Hostigos. We are much closer to the God-King’s heartland. If you turn your face from us, we all know what will happen after that. It colors their judgment.”

“And yours?”

Tuck shook his head. “I’ve never heard a word from any man, nor from any woman, that the High King is less than honorable. I’ve heard he is a wise king who treats his subjects as all true men should. And true women. I cannot believe that a man such as that would turn his back on men and women who fought to preserve his Kingdom.”

“Well, trust me. Trust the High King. In one of my packs is a small chest of scrolls. You are now Lord Tuck, Count of Xipototec. A brigadier, just like me. As soon as we can arrange it...probably by tomorrow evening, you will bow to the High King and he’ll clasp your hands and take your oath. After that, the God-King will only take your lands over the High King’s dead body and the dead bodies of all of his soldiers and people.”

“Like I said,” Tuck responded, “I never had any doubts.”

“I know. But there is nothing like a public affirmation of that faith, is there?” Brigadier Verkan asked.

“Well, let’s just say it can be drafty and chilly out at the end of a long pointy stick,” Tuck told him.

The brigadier laughed. “You’re a good man, Count Tuck! It is something the High King has learned, sir: you can tell the heart and soul of a man by how his soldiers fight for him! Your soldiers are the equal of any of the High King’s! And the High King sent along enough scrolls confirming promotions and new nobles to satisfy an army thrice this size!”

Tanda Havra had delivered their message and was coming back. Tanda stayed on her horse. “Lord Tuck, they say one finger width, not a palm width. Their brigadier said something about why postpone bad news?”

“This from a man who has been postponing bad news since Three Hills?” the young captain said, speaking for the first time.

“You have to admit, he’s done an able job of it,” Brigadier Verkan replied. “But now, at long last, he’s run out of options. Lord Tuck, please. I will be a spectator only; this is your victory as all men know.”

“A few women had a hand in it as well,” Judy added.

The brigadier bowed gallantly in her direction. “Lady Judy, is it not?”

Judy nodded.

“One of those scrolls, Lady Judy, is for you. Count Errock has asked a particular boon of the High King. The High King has decided to grant it. Count Errock holds the town of Outpost in the High King’s name. He says that you too held an outpost in the High King’s name and deserve to be rewarded accordingly. The High King has made you Lady Judy, Countess of the southern bastion of Tarr-Dombra.”

“A blood-soaked pile of rocks, where many good men and women died?” Judy’s voice was shaking with anger.

“Well, obviously that’s not a suitable fief. That, and everything south to the new border that will be negotiated with the God-King, north to the border that will be negotiated with the Lost Ruthani, and aye, the High King himself. Oh, and everything a hundred miles east, including the city of Tecpan.”

Brigadier Verkan grinned at Gamelin. “And you, sir, should find your father’s objections to marrying someone not a peer, if there ever were any, now muted. The High King is still considering what to reward you with, Captain. He’s talking with your father. You understand that a double county would upset a great many nobles?”

“I’m fine with the one my father will one day bequeath me,” Gamelin told the old general.

“I’m sure, but like I said, that’s just not possible, Captain. The High King rewards those who serve him particularly well. I am sure that the final result will be satisfactory to all, but we must be patient.”

Gamelin nodded, knowing that the doings of Kings and Counts weren’t something you wanted to get your fingers into unless you were prepared to lose them.

The general looked at the town, where a party of four had ridden out and were waiting for them. “Count Tuck, I hate to command a man with his own army, but it would no doubt impress those men if your army marched behind us and took up positions about a half mile away from the truce site.”

Tuck looked at the town, then at the general. “Sir, it will be my pleasure.” Tuck turned to Gamelin. “Captain Gamelin, march the men two hundred yards behind us. Stop about a half mile from the truce site. Oh...bring the drums. Have them play. If the men want, perhaps they could run, too.”

Gamelin grinned and turned and left, Vosper following at his back.

Tuck kicked his horse into motion, and the rest of the command party trailed along behind him. Tanda Havra, Judy, the brigadier and the young captain. The other two men with Brigadier Verkan simply sat their horses, unmoving.

When they got closer, Judy could see the men who’d come from the God-King’s town better. There was a Zarthani officer sitting his horse in front of the others. Just a smidge behind him was a man who, she was certain, was one of the God-King’s priests, although he was the first of their priests she’d seen with a rifle over his back, and pistols in his belt. A third man was one of the God-King’s officers and the fourth dressed like a peasant, but looked like a Zarthani.

From off to one side the young captain spoke, “I never learned the man in front’s name, I understand it is Denethon, who commands those who oppose us. The priest I saw before, but I thought he was a soldier of the God-King. I’ve never seen the officer before, but the last man, I saw him too with General Denethon. He said his name was Vicik.”

It was, Judy thought, the oddest parley she’d seen yet. General Denethon bowed low...to the young captain.

“I suppose you brought those damn guns.”

“Yes, sir. As before, we’re ready to use them,” Captain Legios replied.

Judy saw General Denethon look at the rest of them, then fix on Brigadier Verkan. “Lord Tuck, we’ve come to hear your discussion of your surrender terms.”

Brigadier Verkan chuckled. “I’m Brigadier Verkan, the High King’s man, come to speak for him, if necessary.”

Judy saw General Denethon’s gaze, as well as the others on the God-King’s side of the truce party turn to Tuck. Yes, it was true. Tuck’s ordinariness was just one more weapon Tuck used against his enemies.

“You oppose my passage north,” Tuck said without preamble. “The High King comes south and I have a meeting set with him before sundown. I promised my wife-to-be the war would be over before the winter solstice. No matter what you say or want, this will be over, long before sundown.

“I offer you the High King’s standard terms. Those of your men, women if you have them, may take the High King’s Pardon and he will treat them as he does surrendered mercenaries. The rest of you may surrender to me, Oath to Galzar. You would be treated well and eventually repatriated to the God-King. Or you can fight.”

Judy watched General Denethon. For several heartbeats he sat unmoving. Then he spoke.

“It was my intention to ask what your terms were. Only at the last heartbeat did I realize one doesn’t begin a negotiation having given up on the end result. Regardless, I’ve heard your terms. Sir, my men are tired, hungry and exhausted. We are, sir, a plague upon the land because we can’t feed ourselves and are so forced to steal from those without the ability to resist.”

He nodded at the young captain. “And when we meet those who can resist, it doesn’t go well for us at all. I accept your terms. Those who wish the High King’s largesse will march north from town at dawn tomorrow, without arms. I will stand surety that they will be orderly.

“Tomorrow, the rest of my army will come south, also without arms, and give themselves to the High King’s mercy, Oath to Galzar.”

“And the town?” Tuck asked.

General Denethon smiled slightly. “Lord Tuck, the moment my men and I appeared, constipation ceased to exist in Grayx. They are, sir, terrified that you will make an example of them.”

Tuck smiled. “I have made an example of every town I’ve taken, as has the High King. The town elders need to understand that they need to swear new oaths, but beyond that, nothing happens to those who remain faithful to those new oaths.”

“They do understand, Lord Tuck,” General Denethon said. “That they do. They hardly can believe stories of such generosity; it’s not what they knew before.”

“I think our business is concluded here, is it not, General Denethon?” Tuck said, ignoring the last few sentences.

“Aye, Lord Tuck. I wish our business had never started.”

“It wasn’t my choice either,” Tuck replied. “The choice lay with others. With one exception, all those who chose that course are dead.” Tuck waved at the town. “Ride back and let your soldiers and the town know what has passed between us and what has been agreed to. This is not the time for unfortunate mistakes.”

“There will be no mistakes, fortunate or unfortunate,” General Denethon told them.

“Good,” Tuck said. “I’ll see you at dawn, tomorrow.”

“Oh, General Denethon,” Brigadier Verkan interjected, “one last thing. If, at dawn tomorrow, no one comes out of the gates of this town, a palm width later Lord Tuck’s hundred guns will commence firing. As will the nine hundred and six guns the High King has brought with him this far. At High Sun, we’ll ride into the rubble and spare no one.”

Judy saw Denethon was offended. “I gave my word, General. I’ve never broken my word, as you have not. As the High King has not. As Lord Tuck has not. Please, do not ascribe to me the follies of fools.”

General Denethon and those with him turned and rode away. Judy was mildly surprised that none of them had spoken, except Denethon.

Tuck glanced at Brigadier Verkan and spoke mildly, “Sir, you had no cause to say the last. None.”

“I have one cause,” Brigadier Verkan told Tuck. “The High King told me that on no account was there to be a mistake here. He wants the garrison to surrender and then be treated according to the oaths they give. The God-King has more soldiers than there are people in Hostigos, Lord Tuck. He has more soldiers than there are people in all of the Great Kingdoms combined.

“Our cities and towns are a long ways from the God-King’s, but the God-King has a lot of soldiers. Better for them to know that we give what we promise, and punish oath-breakers terribly. High King Kalvan is already preparing for the next war.”

IV

Elspeth felt well enough to have breakfast on her balcony, looking out over what she knew as San Francisco Bay. The day was sunny enough and warm enough, but the mornings were already getting damp and chill from the early fog.

King Freidal appeared from the direction of her rooms and waved at a chair at her table.

“You’ve already entered, unbidden, my private apartment,” Elspeth said bitterly. “Why not eat at my table, too?”

“I heard that your signal lights were flashing yesterday afternoon and this morning.”

“And you couldn’t have knocked and had one of my maids bring me the message?”

“The war is over,” Freidal told her. “The High King and your Lord Tuck accepted the surrender of the last force of the God-King’s soldiers in the Northern Regime.”

“Ha!” Elspeth exclaimed. “Cut that a little close, didn’t he! But Tuck is a man of his word! He said the war would be over before the winter solstice...and the war is over and solstice is still a moon quarter away! They are a little bit better at that planning thing than you guys are.”

“Just a bit. We were over-elaborate.”

“Just a bit,” Elspeth agreed, mocking him.

“Your sergeant had a message for me from the High King.”

Elspeth grinned at him. “That’s the great thing about the High King's message delivery service: They deliver to anyone.”

“Yes. The High King knows of my sister’s secret betrothal to Denethon, the man who was my father’s liaison with the God-King’s army marching on Xiphlon.”

“He’s the general who can run really fast?” Elspeth sneered.

“That one, Lady Elspeth. The High King sends that wedding plans of one king’s family don’t concern another. That he wishes both Denethon and Alros well.”

“And that means what?” Elspeth said.

“A command from the High King that the two of them wed, as promised.”

“I’m missing something here,” Elspeth told him.

“Some would say that it would be better if Alros married the High King’s son.”

“He’s twelve, Freidal. Ten. Statutory rape.”

“I have no idea what you just said. But I gather you too, oppose that match.”

“He’s too young and she’s too old. I’ve come to understand such weddings happen. I don’t think any of the parties are happy.”

“In the past, you learned to live with it,” Freidal told her. “I was lucky. My father told me that when I turned twenty-five I had to be wed and a father, or he’d disown me.”

“Based, no doubt, on your father’s wide experience with women,” Elspeth said, trying not to laugh.

“The High King also suggested that it would be better for everyone, if I too was wed, but his daughter has other plans.”

Elspeth smiled at that. “I pity the lucky lady from among your subjects. The prince of a man who pretended he wasn’t, until he decided that he wanted to be in charge!”

“Lady Elspeth, I talked with Xitki Quillan early this morning. He said I should do one of two things. Find a way to kill you, or failing that, to neutralize you. You are, he said, a danger to the kingdom as you are now. Your tongue, he says, is a formidable weapon, equal to some armies. Ours, if none other.”

Elspeth dropped her switchblade on the table and put her hand on it. “Have at it, Freidal. Good luck.”

“Would you marry me?”

Elspeth blinked.

“For a heartbeat there, I think I was asleep and dreaming,” Elspeth told Freidal.

“No, you weren’t dreaming. Marry me. Please.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“You think you are so very tough. Yet, a great part of you died when you gave the baby up.”

“That’s just tough shit, King Freidal. It wasn’t really mine.”

“It was half yours. More than half, the way I think. But you permitted him to be fostered. It happens, Lady Elspeth, it happens in the best of families.

“But that was one thing, now I’m talking something else. You and me.”

“If you take a mistress, I’ll kill you.”

“If I take a mistress or a mister, I would deserve it.”

That broke Elspeth up.

“I did not come here for self-promotion.”

“No,” Freidal agreed. “You came here to do the bidding of the High King, to make his realm safer. Think how safe the High King will be, when my wife is in his employ and whispering his orders to me.”

Elspeth shook her head. “You know me better than that. I fought you because you came at us. None of us on the other side of the river wanted what happened.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to the man who promised to marry you.”

Elspeth shrugged. “He was a kind and decent man, who liked younger women. He had a fine sense of duty, and that’s what killed him. He was Count Errock’s logistos and saw it as his duty to make sure everything that could be rescued was.”

She met Freidal’s eyes. “Freidal, I swear, that our relationship would only have been consummated after the wedding.”

Freidal smiled broadly. “Lady Elspeth, if there is one thing I have learned about you that stands out above all the rest: you do as it pleases you. And that men do not stand high on the list of what pleases you.”

“My husband and I will stand together,” Elspeth said. “Do you understand?”

“I understand. I have had a sharp lesson on the rights of men and women. Lady Elspeth, I want you at my side. Not a step behind, not a step ahead. At my side.”

She looked at him, then out at the Bay. Rays of sunshine were glancing down over the water, through the clouds. It was majestic. “One thing, then. You can have your capital here in the summer, but for the rest of the year we go south.”

Freidal broke into laughter.

Elspeth was patient, waiting for him to finish.

“Sorry,” Freidal said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “When I was six, it rained here on my birthday. We had to postpone the festivities, my father told me. Today my birthday is a moon away. Back then, my father ended up postponing my birthday until the summer solstice, which was the next time it stopped raining for an entire day–but by then he’d forgotten his promise. On my seventh birthday I asked for a double present: that we move south and never come back!”


	31. A Brief Flash in the Sun

I

Lion sat in the sun, not far from the hospital at Xipototec. He didn’t much like the hospital; too many men died there. But he hadn’t, which was a miracle and he hadn’t lost the use of his arm, which was a greater miracle. There were worse things that could happen to a man of his age, than to be allowed to sit in the sun and watch the bustle of the main plaza while he regained his strength.

Hestius came along and sat down and stared stonily at the southern horizon. It was, Lion thought, the sad aftermath of war. People lived and people died. And unlike Lion, Hestius was never going to regain the full use of his right arm. He couldn’t lift it as high as his shoulder, no matter what he did. The pain was unbearable. You could see it on the man’s face, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Oh, yes. He would never again see the woman he loved.

“The war’s over,” Lion told Hestius. “We can all go home now.”

“The God-King destroyed my home when I was boy,” Hestius said. “Now he has destroyed my dreams.” He clenched his fists. “Every night I dream the same thing. Every day I dream the same thing. I have the God-King in my hands and I wrap them around his neck and squeeze and then he is dead.”

Hestius might have lost the ability to lift his right arm higher than his shoulder, but he’d certainly not lost the ability to squeeze his hands together. Lion could see his muscles cord, the tendons in his wrists grow taut.

Lion waved at the town. “These people are happy, Sergeant. So very happy. They have no reason to be. My people have fought for many thousand years against the God-Kings. Unless a miracle happens, these people can look forward to many thousand years of fighting too. Except our villages were small, most with only hundreds of people, none numbered in the thousands. And the larger villages only came lately after the High King’s Peace.

“Pinyon told me that if the God-King had sent his men north, he’d have found us this time, because so many had to live outside.”

“When it comes time to fight the God-King again, I’ll muster!” Hestius told Lion. “I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll muster! Then I’ll march south and I’ll kill the bastard!”

Lion nodded. “I have wives to go home to. Children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. A very special daughter who is either wed by now, or will be tomorrow. I’m told Brigadier Verkan will stand in my place. I suppose if you have to have someone stand for you, he’s as good a man as any. I wish she wasn’t in so much of a rush!”

He was silent for a moment. “Not that I begrudge the girl even a moment of happiness.”

There was a sudden eruption of sound in the town. Rifles were firing into the air. Then more and more and as the word spread.

“Sounds like everyone has heard the war’s over,” Hestius said dolorously.

“Sergeant,” Lion said, speaking carefully. He’d thought about his idea long and hard. Like most men, it wasn’t a comfortable thought, bringing up an idea to the possibility of derision. “Not so long ago, I found two of our scouts wearing belts of strange beads. Black disks, you see,” Lion held the fingers of his hand up to show the approximate size.

“They were upset when I asked them what they were. ‘These are Lord Tuck’s magic!’ they told me.”

Hestius snickered loudly. “They wouldn’t have been upset if they’d tripped while running! They’d simply be a smoking hole in the ground! Those are the special fireseed of the High King–the fireseed that works his mortars and doesn’t produce smoke.”

Lion smiled. “You should have seen the look on their faces when I put a disk on a cactus in the desert, and then fired a single shot. The cactus blew into a thousand pieces! Some men have no ability to pay attention at all, and no ability to question even the simplest thing.”

“I’d like to give a belt like that to the God-King,” Hestius said, “and then trip him.”

Hestius froze, staring at Lion, transfixed.

Lion nodded. “It wouldn’t be an easy thing to do,” Lion told Hestius. “But I was thinking that very thing myself.”

“No, it would have to be well thought out, carefully done. Did you know Vertax is back in town? He led a wild charge that broke ten times his numbers of the God-King’s soldiers. Since his daughter died, he’s...crazy,” Hestius told Lion.

Lion held Hestius’ eyes. “You understand, that there are many who would stop us?”

“Stop you, perhaps, and then just you. I doubt if Lord Tuck, Lady Judy or Lord Gamelin care about what happens to a crippled sergeant they once commanded.”

Lion shook his head. “If you think that, then you don’t know any of them. They care and will soon try to do something for you and for me. If we are to do this, we should leave before their thoughts turn to us. Vertax...Vertax could be the difference between success and failure.”

“Maybe. Odds are we’ll fail and die for nothing. That’s what happened to my brothers and sister. They were killed and I could have only died with them. I wanted vengeance, you see. So...vengeance is fine with me. It will simply be sweeter than I first thought.”

II

Tanda Havra pushed a piece of paper towards Judy and said, “This one will interest you.”

Judy picked it up and read it. “She’s marrying who?” the exclamation escaped her lips before she could think to stop it.

“Yes. Speaking from my own practical experience, and, as I think you have noticed, shoot for the top of the mountain,” Tanda said.

“You’re marrying a count,” Judy said. “I’m marrying a count and now I’m one myself.”

“Countess,” Tanda reminded Judy.

“Countess,” Judy agreed. “Will I ever be free from the fear that some morning someone will kick me awake and it will be you?”

“Only if you don’t train your guards well,” Tanda said and paused dramatically. “Very well.” Tanda laughed. “Perhaps you are right to worry.”

The two traded grins.

Two men came in the antechamber where the two women labored in, unescorted. The oldest was about forty. He reminded Judy of Tuck, although his eyes said he was probably a nobleman and born to it. Tuck had said to expect a lot of Hostigi noblemen to show up over the next few moons, looking to cash in on vast chunks of land needing “leadership.”

The second man was younger, perhaps in his thirties. There was an extravagance in the way he dressed, the way he looked at Tanda and Judy, the way he looked at the older man. He was very tall, taller than Judy. The older man in the lead was carrying nothing, but the younger had what looked like a map roll in his hands.

“Howdy,” the older man said in English.

For a second, the two women froze. Judy looked at a man who’d said something in recognizable English in total shock. Tanda Havra was in shock, too, for a different reason.

“Sorry,” the older man said, switching to Zarthani. “I imagine I’m a little out of practice.”

Judy debated what to say, then decided who this had to be. “Sire, you have an odd accent; I’m not sure I recognized the word.”

“I thought he just cleared his throat,” Tanda said, knowing it was about the lamest excuse imaginable.

The older man nodded at the door across the room. “Do you suppose Count Tuck has time for a visit with a guest who has come a long way?”

“Sire, Tuck would like nothing more!” Judy exclaimed, jumping up, hoping she wasn’t breaking some rule of etiquette.

Tuck glanced up when Judy opened the door. “Yes, Judy?”

“Tuck, the High King,” she said, then opened the door wider.

The High King walked through it, grinning at Judy. “You’ve cut Captain-General Hestophes to the quick, Lady Judy!”

Judy nodded, and spoke loudly, if belatedly, “And Captain-General Hestophes.”

Tuck rose and bowed, but the High King just smiled and held out his hand. “Lord Tuck, I’m sorry that I couldn’t greet you at Grayx as I’d hoped, but I had to take the army back east to deal with a counter-attack by one of the God-King’s generals who hadn’t gotten the word that God-King had agreed to a cease-fire.”

“We heard, sire. Another victory for your army,” Tuck said calmly.

“Yes, as I mentioned to all my senior military advisors, I wish we weren’t winning so handily; that might cause many problems down the road. 

“For instance, I had hoped Count Errock would be able to delay the Zarthani as much as a year with a fighting retreat. I never envisioned that he would counterattack and defeat half of the attack himself.”

“The Zarthani defeated themselves, sire,” Tuck told him.

“Of course, of course. So did the God-King and his soldiers. Do you know, Lord Tuck, what General Denethon told me before we sent him on west?”

“I can’t begin to imagine. He was the best of a bad lot.”

“He saved a lot of Hostigi citizens by convincing the God-King’s priests that slaughtering them to celebrate defeats and encourage their soldiers to fight harder was a bad idea. But, not that. What he said was the soldiers of the God-King would have fought ten times harder with bows and arrows. That they were given fireseed weapons and told they were just as good as any Hostigi soldier. When those soldiers found that they still held no advantage, they despaired. They became convinced that there was nothing they could do except die.

“And then they looked around and decided it wasn’t a good day to die, but one to live...and lost not only their will to fight, but the desire to sacrifice further for the God-King. A good many of those soldiers have gone home. The God-King has some good spy-catchers, but I have some very good spies. Right now his rule is teetering. Too many of his people have heard of my offers of amnesty. The surviving soldiers are spreading disaffection in his ranks.

“So far the numbers who’ve come north have been just a trickle, but the word’s abroad: nothing happens to you in my lands, except what was promised. And that the God-King’s soldiers have too much on their plates right now to worry about a few people who flee. I suspect that will change here in the next few moons as they settle things down again. In the meantime, we have an opportunity.

“Which brings me to you, Lord Tuck.”

“Me, sire?”

“Yes. I understand you are quite pleased being the Count of Xipototec. And the people of Xipototec are ecstatic.”

Tuck grimaced and Judy wanted to laugh. The people of Xipototec had had a big party the day they heard the war was over. Then they’d had a bigger party than any they’d ever had before when they found Tuck was going to be the High King’s man responsible for them. It had cemented the relationship between the people and sovereign and the people and Tuck.

Everything Judy had learned in school had been dismissive of feudal lords and nobles, their oaths and the like; democracy had been the remedy for all ills.

Except these people needed a lot more reassurance than any election could give. They wanted to know there was a personal tie between them and the person who commanded them, and another personal tie between their Lord and the High King. Here and now, everything was personal.

“I have talked things over with my advisors, even let the powers-that-be back in Hostigos and Outpost know my thinking–Queen Rylla and Lady Dalla.

“The only way to tie the realm together is rapid communications. Roads and the new steam pullers are part of that. There are ways to talk over wire, so that messages can fly from Hostigos to Outpost and even Baytown in instants, not days and works as well on cloudy days as sunny, and just as well at night as the day.

“In the sixth year of my reign, I built a foundry that produced nothing but rails for the steam pullers. Every year after that, I have added another rail mill. Our current production is about three miles of rail a day. We built the steam puller road to Xiphlon first, then for the last two years we stockpiled rails. Thus we had enough, barely, to reach halfway to the Big River. Next year I’ll start adding two rail foundries a year, but it’s going to be slow expanding the steam puller roads for years to come. Probably two or three years to get the steam puller road as far west as Outpost. Another couple of years to Xipototec, another two or three years beyond that to cut through the mountains to Baytown. We should have the road to Tecpan a little before we reach Baytown.

“The talking wires,” the High King had a gleam in his eye when he said that. Both Judy and Tuck nodded in understanding. “Are also going to be a problem. They must be made of copper. My realm produces iron and steel in sufficient abundance, but not copper.”

The High King’s eyes were locked on Tuck’s, and Tuck turned and looked at Tanda Havra. “Lord Tuck?” Tanda asked softly.

“There are mountains of copper, Tanda Havra, under the lands ceded to the Lost Ruthani.”

“And you want to take it?” Tanda Havra looked like she could barely control her anger.

The High King shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But the Lost Ruthani do not know how to dig the metal, extract the metal from the rocks or how to then prepare it as we’ll need it. We do. I would be willing to pay very well for the ability to mine it and process it. I would pay gold, plus tools, weapons, fireseed, food...basically anything you can buy in my realm with gold, which is just about everything.

“I would also undertake to fund scholarships for any of the Ruthani to come to Hostigos to learn how to do what it is we do. Every two years we would renegotiate the agreement. It would be good if you could talk to the Lost Ruthani and at least translate for a representative of mine who would make the offer. You don’t have to take a position of your own, one way or the other, if that’s your choice.”

“Too many times the Zarthani have simply taken what it is they want,” Tanda told the High King.

“I know. Things are different now, and I’m going to be spending most of my attention in the future making sure everything stays that way. I’ve done everything in my power to show people that they can trust me, and trust what I say.”

“You could be killed tomorrow,” Tanda told him.

Judy winced.

“I could. But then my wife steps into my shoes and she’s promised to honor my legacy. There are, Tanda Havra, two things men leave behind them after they die: their children and their deeds. I’m proud of both and I feel confident that none of my children want to spoil my legacy.”

“And from me,” Tuck said, “what is it you want?”

“Captain-General Hestophes, the map.”

The captain-general pulled a large map from the roll he carried with him and spread it out on a table.

“We are here, at Tecpan,” the High King said, putting his finger on the dot that represented where they were. “We have taken this strip of land from the God-King, from the Great Eastern Ocean to the Great Western Ocean; from sea to shining sea. From Xipototec, north of the mountains, eastward, following the eastern margin of the mountains, until finally the Eastern Ocean, roughly a moon’s ride south of the mouth of the Big River.

“Xipototec is the smallest of the major towns,” the High King explained. “Tecpan is much larger and the town closest to the ocean, Zacateca, is the largest of the three. I have given the smallest to Count Tuck, the next larger to Countess Judy. Zacateca says they wish to walk their own path with their own leaders. They did kill a few of their priests and nobles but most fled. They have not pulled down their temple, but there are no more sacrifices there.”

He looked at Tuck, Judy and Tanda Havra. “Now, some of the High King’s secrets. Here,” he put his finger down along the eastern coast line of what had once been the God-King’s lands, “I am going to build a major strong point on the village of Zimapan. My scholars have been working on improving the sorts of ships that sail on the sea. Some of the new ships will be warships that mount many cannon. There will be quite a few of them posted to this strong point. Captain-General Hestophes, at least at first, will command that position.”

Tuck nodded, his eyes studying the High King carefully.

The High King waved at Hestophes. “The captain-general will be the military commander of the regular Army of Hostigos in the south. A cousin of Rylla’s will be become count of the city. He is earnest, but young.”

“I understand,” Tuck said neutrally.

“Then I hope you understand that I also need a political leader for the new conquests. Someone respectful of the people, with a degree of understanding of the situation they’ve faced up until now, and what they will face in the future. You, Lord Tuck.”

“You are giving a big chunk of your kingdom to someone who hasn’t been here a year,” Tuck said calmly.

“Once upon a time, I, too, was new,” the High King reminded Tuck. “And I’ve heard enough about you to realize that we share a little common history. You understand why we can’t compare notes, as well.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“The Mexicotál will fight for you and Lady Judy. They already have fought for you both. You have captured enough war materials to equip ten armies the size of what you have now. I suspect we will need every person we can lay our hands on, before we’re finished.”

“I think you’re right,” Tuck told him. “The God-King made a mistake thinking he could drill his men a few times in the new weapons and march them into battle. It works, until first you have to truly motivate your soldiers. It isn’t enough that they fight for you to simply keep you from killing themselves and their families.”

“Exactly. You understand these things. Accept and you can style yourself Duke.”

The High King watched Tuck’s face. Tuck was, Judy realized, embarrassed. “You understand that I wouldn’t make this sort of an offer to a man who was eager for it?”

“A man like me,” Captain-General Hestophes said, a little sadly.

“You’re my Grand Marshal, now,” the High King told Hestophes. “You can have all the military authority you want.”

“And the smallest duchy in the realm,” Hestophes replied. He was laughing, Judy saw. “That’s okay, as long as I get to sit on my horse in front of a large body of men, all armed as well as possible, marching on some enemy.”

“I don’t think we’re going to lack those,” the High King said dryly.

“And I get both political and military power?” Tuck was clearly surprised.

“You get political power, a strong standing army and even larger militias in the counties. But not as strong as the Grand Marshal of the Army of Hostigos, Hestophes.”

Tuck laughed. “And of course, if Judy or I decide to go it alone, there is the Marshal off to one side with his force and the God-King who’d like nothing better than a shot at taking back what he lost.”

“That’s right.”

“And further west are the Zarthani,” Tuck went on. “Another bunch of people who have no love for us.”

The High King frowned and turned to Hestophes. “We sent the message, didn’t we?”

“It was forwarded first thing this morning, sire.”

“You mean about Elspeth?” Judy said, realizing what they were talking about.

“Yes, the one about one of your sisters,” the High King agreed.

“We’re friends,” Judy told him, “not really sisters. And in Elspeth’s case, we’re not really friends either. Sire, we had just gotten the message the moment you arrived. Tanda had read it and passed it to me. We haven’t had a chance to discuss it with Lord Tuck.”

“Discuss what with me?” Tuck asked.

“Elspeth’s getting married,” Tanda Havra told him.

“I hope she picked a survivor this time,” Tuck said a little sourly.

“King Freidal,” the High King told him. “A survivor if there ever was one. You should know, you shot him a couple of times, yourself.”

Tuck swallowed. “I’ll be! Considering her usual attitude to anyone in authority, he must be a very convincing man to win her over.”

“I believe, Lord Tuck,” the High King said with a laugh, “it was the other way around.

“The Zarthani kingdom has been shaken to its core by their short, catastrophic war. Their king was killed, the last remnants of Styphon broken and scattered. Now their worst enemy, the God-King of the Mexicotál, has fireseed weapons in numbers unimaginable and soldiers to use them.

“I believe King Freidal is a solid man. He had the courage to realize the war was lost and broke it off, without throwing away any more men. He reinstated the priests of Dralm and Galzar...he’s done all sorts of things.

“I’ve negotiated a truce with him. He is required to end slavery and serfdom in a year, by the next winter solstice. He says it will be sooner or he will have no slaves or serfs left to free. Our borders change only slightly, and the Zarthani claims on the east bank of the Mud River are given up. Oh, and he confirms his father’s selection of a suitable husband for his sister.”

“Anyone we know?” Tuck asked.

“General Denethon.”

“And what are the nobles of Zarthan going to say when their king marries a commoner and the crown princess marries one as well? And what about Elspeth’s baby? Won’t that mess things up, too?”

“General Denethon isn’t exactly a commoner–he’s a minor baron, related to Count Quillan’s father’s brother.

“Lady Elspeth’s baby was fostered out. I’m not a woman, and I’m not going to second-guess her decision,” the High King told Tuck. “Freidal and Elspeth will formally disown the boy before their wedding. Not that the boy won’t be well-provided for.

“And not exactly someone nobles are going to rally around to put a noble back on the throne,” Tuck mused.

“No,” the High King said. “And the Zarthani face the same situation you do, Lord Tuck. If they decide to start fighting amongst themselves or against us they will see the God-King appear on their southern borders almost at once. There are millions of the God-King’s soldiers who would be more than willing to exploit any weaknesses.”

“How would the God-King get to Zarthan?” Judy asked. “Tuck and I would be in the way.”

“They showed their hand, a little, when they took off the last of the soldiers under Captain-General Uxmal. All of a sudden about fifty transport ships appeared one morning, and by the next morning those soldiers were gone. We have only the sketchiest reports, but they appear to be purpose-built troop transports. The God-King has spent a long time thinking about how to fight me, and he’s been preparing for a long time. My information is that they have perhaps five hundred transports, enough to haul a couple of hundred thousand men at a time.”

The room was in silence for a few moments as everyone digested the news. “Lord Tuck, do you have an answer for me now, or would you rather have some time to think about it?”

Tuck chuckled. “Sire, if I were to spend some time thinking about any of this, I’d probably put my head down and see how far and fast I could run. I was intimidated by having four teenage girls in my care. Now I have tens of thousands of kids and adults.”

“My guess is upwards of a quarter million,” the High King agreed.

“I would be afraid of it, but I have pretty much been dealing with it up to right now.”

“It was something I took into account,” the High King agreed again.

“Sure, why not?” Tuck said.

“And when will your wedding be, Lord Tuck?”

Tuck sighed. “Tanda wants her adopted father to be here, except he checked out of the hospital in Xipototec a few days before she asked him to come. He told the hospital he was headed home to see his family. Tanda’s upset he didn’t let her know. Right now, we’re waiting for more information.”

III

Tanda Havra glanced up and saw Brigadier Verkan standing in the door. “Do you have a few finger widths for me, Tanda Havra?”

“Yes, of course, General,” she said politely.

She stood and followed him outside. They walked quickly through the town and out the main gate. “Would you like to run a little, Tanda Havra?” he asked her. “You’ve been sitting in that stuffy office for days.”

“Of course, General.”

She set off at a brisk pace and he matched her stride for stride. After a few miles she glanced at him. He laughed. “I only look old, Tanda. You should know that.”

“It’s still hard for me to understand. A man born before my oldest grandfather, who can run as well as I can.”

He waved at a ridge off to one side of their path. “Let us go up there.”

She bent her path that way. They’d gone about a third of the way up, when he increased the pace, leaving her behind. She’d judged it carefully–she would have spent herself long before the top of the ridge.

As is was, she arrived a finger width or so after he did. He looked around; the desert afternoon was still, even in the dead of winter. She joined him, making a point not to be breathing hard.

He waved at the vista in front of them. “Both my wife and I have tried to contact you, but evidently your equipment isn’t working.”

“I bundled it up and gave it to Xenos. I told him I resigned.”

He chuckled. “We wondered about that. He went out of contact for two days and we were worried. Then he messaged that he had decided that the war was over and his duty was back at the Lost Ruthani Redoubt.”

“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Tanda Havra told her boss.

“I know; he was quite clear about how it was his own choice. Only at the last did he mention that you’d given him some of your equipment into his care for safekeeping in case you were killed in battle.”

“It was the least I could do,” Tanda said evenly.

“Tanda, you quit.”

She straightened up and faced him, looking him in the eye. “Yes, I quit. Kill me, please. I love the man, I love what he has done, I love what he is doing. Kill me and get it over with. I can’t live this kind of lie.”

“And you think I like it? I was the one who told Tortha Karf that what we did was unconscionable. It was nearly fifteen years ago, and it’s even more unconscionable now.”

“It is the Paratime Secret. Tuck knows it, Judy and her friends know it. I’m sure the matter has come up with the High King,” Tanda said.

“As am I sure, Tanda. Kalvan has suspected me from almost the first. He has to tell Duke Skranga three or four times a year not to have me followed. Skranga thinks I’ve told on him, but Kalvan knows what’s going on in his realm. He doesn’t need to be told by me what’s going on.

“All sorts of people know the Paratime Secret, Tanda Havra. And tell me, what does it gain the High King, Duke Tuck or Countess Judy to know it?”

“I don’t know, but if it was supposed to be generally known, it wouldn’t be called ‘the Paratime Secret.’”

He laughed. “True, so true!

“You resigned, yes?” Verkan said.

“Yes. I’m ready to accept the penalty for my actions.”

“Don’t be absurd! Nothing of the sort! You’ve quit, but the Paracops are not going to compound the error! Tanda Havra, the Wizard Traders or someone a lot like them, are back. Keep your eyes open, let your conscience be your guide on reporting what you know. You know who to talk to.”

“You are just going to let me go?”

“Tanda, Tanda.” He sighed heavily. “Why is the High King alive today? He knows the Paratime Secret; he has, in fact, known of it for years...almost a decade and a half. These people have been torn from all they know... and yes, the rules say kill them. But the rules be damned! They know and understand the indigenous people of this timeline couldn’t deal with or understand the truth. Our enemies, the slave traders, just laugh at our naiveté.

“No, the reason why we are winning is because we’ve decided that accepting the oaths of people not from Home Time Line is acceptable, so long as they promise to protect the Paratime Secret.” He grinned sardonically. “Even if they don’t know they’ve promised anything. Actions have always spoken louder than words.”

IV

Gortan settled himself heavily onto a bench in the commons of the way station. Around him travelers came and went, all on business of the God-King. He wrapped his hand around a mug of beer and took another sip. Here, none knew who he was and that was well. Rumors were already circulating about a priest of the God-King who preached living as duty to the God-King, not death, and who had commanded thousands of soldiers in battle.

There had been no official reaction, but Gortan was certain what it would be when it finally came.

A tall officer of the God-King stopped next to him and waved to an empty bench across from Gortan. “May I join you?”

“Surely,” Gortan said.

“I have two slaves,” the officer said. “Would you mind if they also join us?”

There were quite a few slaves in the commons. Officials of the God-King liked to travel in comfort, and nothing made travel more comfortable than people to do your bidding.

“If you wish,” Gortan told him.

Two men joined them. One was young, a Zarthani. The other very old, a Ruthani. Both had seen better days; the younger had obviously been injured and the other was an old man, sporting many necklaces of some sort of claw. They were more than a little surprising, because neither sort made very good slaves. They were dangerous and untrustworthy.

“I am Vertax,” the newcomer told Gortan, “I commanded the God-King’s scouts at Xipototec.”

Gortan nodded. “Obviously, it was a good day to be in the field with your men when the High King’s men attacked the city.”

“I betrayed them and the town to the High King,” Vertax stated baldly. “With me is Sergeant Hestius of Lord Tuck’s army, who was second in command at the battle for Tarr-Dombra, where less than a hundred Hostigi and Mexicotál soldiers, some as young as fourteen, some of them women, held off more than a thousand of the God-King’s soldiers. One of those who died defending Tarr-Dombra was my daughter.”

Gortan sucked in air. This wasn’t just a little treason, this was the worst infamy he’d ever heard!

“On my right is Lion, Tanda Havra’s adopted father. He has killed many of the big cats who haunt the mountains. And a very great many of the God-King’s soldiers. Hundreds.”

Gortan didn’t know what to do. If this was a trick, then the God-King was going to have him killed in short order. Except the God-King never needed an excuse to kill someone. If the God-King wanted someone dead, he just had to point and they died.

“And you are Gortan, a priest of the God-King,” Vertax concluded.

“Yes, that’s who I am.”

“The man that General Denethon gave command of the God-King’s soldiers with him, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” Gortan said, growing a little more confident, but still very wary. Priests weren’t allowed to command soldiers.

“Do you know what this is?” Vertax asked, pulling a small black disk from a pouch and putting it on the table between them.

“No, I don’t. Can I pick it up?”

“Carefully,” Vertax told him. “Don’t drop it.”

Gortan examined it. He wasn’t sure what it was made of, but it wasn’t very heavy.

“I have no idea.”

“That is one of the High King’s secrets,” Vertax informed Gortan. “That is one of the disks that propel mortar shells. More material just like it is what makes those shells explode when they hit the ground.”

“A man who knew how to make these,” Gortan said carefully, “could pretty much demand his own price from the God-King.”

“That is what we want,” Vertax told him. “But the price is very high.”

“I’m not sure I’m the right person to help you.”

“Perhaps, and perhaps not. We have quite a few of these, plus some of the explosive charges as well. We would like to find a way to deliver these into the God-King’s own hand. All of them at once. And then one of the disks will explode, and the rest will as well.”

Gortan’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You’re insane.”

“I was yards away from the woman I loved,” the Hostigi spoke in a low voice, “when she fell. I was wounded trying to defend her back. We were going to be married when the war was over. I could not help her, but there are others, many others that I can help if I can find a way to give this particular gift to the God-King.”

The old Ruthani also spoke. “A very fine young man, Lord Tuck, has proposed marriage to my adopted daughter. She agreed when he told her he was going to have the war over by winter. He delivered on his promise, priest. I am not a man who does small things. I’ve never been that sort of a man at all. I would like to deliver the bodies of the God-King, his wives, his children’s lives and their children’s lives to my daughter as my wedding present.”

“You would all be killed. If I help you, I would be killed.”

Gortan stopped. Hadn’t he told Denethon that he wasn’t afraid of death? Was that a lie, or was it the truth? Or was it just not the God-King he was willing to die for?

“The God-King’s servants won’t let anyone with any weapon anywhere close to him,” Gortan said carefully.

“Is there a way to get close to him?” Vertax asked. “None of us fears death, priest. Not if there is a chance we can do what we wish.”

The old man grinned. “Some of my Ruthani scouts took to wearing belts of these disks, thinking that they were the High King’s magic. Perhaps we should just lie about what they are. We can offer him some belts of the High King’s magic.” He reached up and ran his fingers over the claws around his neck. “I could even throw in these necklaces.”

“The God-King has many necklaces of jaguar claws,” Gortan told Lion. “He would probably accept such a gift, but it is unlikely that he’d ever wear one.”

Lion smiled as if it was a big joke. “We made these, we did. We carefully carved dozens of disks so that the pieces look like lion claws. We did a good job.”

Gortan realized that if the man made a misstep, he and everyone around him would vanish in an explosion a lot bigger than a mortar bomb made.

“We can all be wearing magic belts,” Vertax said. “We just want to get close.”

Gortan grimaced. There was a way and it was likely to succeed. He thought about it, and then made up his mind.

Denethon had started it, and then Oaxhan had pushed him along willy-nilly in a direction he had never imagined going. Then Hestophes and the High King had moved him as well. Above all, the lean men of Xipototec, standing in the sun at Grayx, men who’d fought halfway across the God-King’s lands to be free. In the hope that they could be the masters of their own fates, not subject to some priest standing atop a pile of stone that would have been better used for anything else.

“So far as I have heard,” Gortan said, measuring his words carefully, “the God-King has said nothing about me to anyone. Yet, a great many are talking about the things I have said and done. Were I to inform the God-King that I was coming to the next sacrifice with offerings from the Hostigi, he would surely accept. I would certainly be sacrificed myself, if I were to appear, as would any with me.

“But, if we were to say that we brought gifts from the Hostigi for the God-King, they would let us keep them, not wanting to alert us of our danger.” Gortan chuckled mildly. “We wouldn’t be permitted weapons, of course.”

“Magic belts and lion’s teeth,” Hestius reminded him. Every man at the table grinned in understanding.

V

A moon quarter later, Hestius stood up straight, staring the God-King in the eye, even if they were twenty feet apart, with guards every few feet between them. He felt the others press close as he let slip one of the magic belts as he offered it to the outstretched hands of one of the priests. He didn’t watch it fall, preferring to watch the eyes of the man he’d come to kill.

VI

All around the God-King’s pyramid, in his capitol of Tenosh, people heard the roar and saw the flash of light. It was High Sun, but a new day had just dawned, nonetheless.

*** THE END ***


End file.
